


tonight, in this house, we drown

by hyruling



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Awfulness, Codependency, Episode: s13e10 Mac Finds His Pride, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, dennis is a repressed dumpster fire, mac has done nothing wrong ever in his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: "But he can’t stand it anymore. A childlike instinct takes over, his long dormant need to protect Mac rearing it’s head for the second time that night.""Mac Finds His Pride" aftermath.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying that this fic is in no way intended to cheapen 'mac finds his pride'. it was a game changing masterpiece, and it was mac's episode, and I still can't adequately explain what it meant to me. it definitely wasn't my intention to immediately put on macdennis goggles after such a transformative episode. 
> 
> that being said, i'm garbage and couldn't help thinking about the aftermath of something this huge. and I may have projected my own unexplainable emotions onto dennis, and my headcanon that the whole gang was all there for mac, and may have just needed to write someone hugging mac because it's what he deserves. 
> 
> *please see tags for content warning. rating and some of the tags are for future chapters*

“Hey man, you want to pick the music?” 

Dennis’ voice is soft, but it still sounds harsh in the heavy silence. He’s in the Range Rover with Mac in the passenger seat. They’ve been driving silently for fifteen minutes, and it’s starting to unnerve Dennis.

Mac hasn’t said a word since they left the prison. He’s still soaking wet. Any other night and Dennis would have bitched at Mac, or refused to let him in the car altogether. Tonight though, he didn’t say a word, hasn’t even considered what it’s doing to his upholstery.

Mac doesn’t answer. His head is resting against the window, and he’s curled in on himself and away from Dennis as much as he possibly can be. Dennis’ bites his lip, a million things that he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but he says nothing. He decides against turning on the radio, afraid to disturb the fragile figure huddled next to him.

Dennis, Charlie, and Dee had all seen Mac’s performance. They sat in the back, and Mac miraculously hadn’t noticed them the entire time he was on stage. It was supposed to be a surprise for Mac. A way, according to Frank, to show that they supported and accepted him. None of them knew what they were agreeing to see, and they all assumed it would be a ridiculous stunt and Mac would only embarrass himself, but Frank had offered to pay them just to show up.Dennis knew that he wouldn’t be seeking any money from Frank, that it would feel distinctly wrong to do so now.

Dennis is still reeling from it. He’s trying not to show how affected he was, but he can’t deny to himself how moved he was by Mac. He wasn’t the only one. Mac had remained cradled in his dance partner’s arms for several minutes at the end, his shoulders shaking, his sobs audible when the applause finally died down. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Dennis’ chest had ached more and more with each passing minute. Seeing Mac so vulnerable shook something loose in him, and Dennis had to break away from the others to wipe his face before they saw how overwhelmed he was.

When Frank finally managed to pick Mac back up at the end and coax him off stage, Dee shocked the rest of them by pulling Mac into a fierce hug. Dennis and Charlie had looked at each other, stunned at what was happening. Dee hadn’t hugged Mac in years, probably not since she and Dennis left for Penn. 

She held on for a long time, whispering something Dennis couldn’t make out. Surprisingly, Mac didn’t shove her off. He nodded into her shoulder and tightened his grip, his eyes screwed shut. Dee’s eyes were wet when she finally pulled away, and she and Mac looked at each other significantly for a moment before he turned to the rest of the gang.

Charlie had immediately launched into a typical Charlie rant, high pitched and unnecessarily loud, raving about how great Mac was. Mac’s eyes were still red, and he welled up again the longer Charlie talked, clinging to every word he said and visibly drinking in the praise.

At one point, Frank broke away from the group. Dennis saw him head towards one of the prisoners in the audience, a man he vaguely recognized as one that was sitting near Luther. The thought of Luther evoked a fresh wave of rage; it had taken everything Dennis had not to jump out of his seat and beat the shit out of him when he’d walked out on Mac. It made him feel like he was sixteen again, when he would hang out at Mac’s and have to pull him out of the house, away from Luther. He would come home drunk nearly every night and immediately lay into Mac with no provocation. He’d bluster and yell about how Mac was pathetic, and a disappointment, and Mac would just stare at his feet, looking so small. They’d escape to the abandoned pool and smoke weed, and Dennis would do and say anything he could think of to distract Mac from his piece of shit father. He hadn’t felt that protective of Mac in almost thirty years, but it came crashing back like an avalanche the moment he saw Luther’s face tonight.

Frank had shaken the hand of the man he was speaking with, then meandered back to the group. Charlie and Dee were still gushing about the dance; Dennis was the only one who’d noticed Frank’s absence. He’d looked at Frank questioningly while the others were distracted. Frank shook his head minutely, gesturing to Mac. Dennis dropped it, but curiosity burned in him.

Charlie eventually stopped babbling, and a hush fell over the gang. Mac had looked at Dennis for the first time all night, his expression more vulnerable and open than usual, and Dennis’ heart seized. He knew Mac wanted some kind of validation from Dennis, knew that he craved it from Dennis more than anyone else in the gang. But Dennis couldn’t give him what he wanted in that moment. His own emotions were too fragile, he was worried what he might say if he opened his mouth.

So he just smiled. It was all he could manage, and he knew it wasn’t enough, but Mac returned his smile weakly anyway. Sometimes it broke Dennis’ heart the way Mac was always so unreservedly grateful for the bare minimum of Dennis’ affection.

Dee suggested they go back to the bar, but Mac shook his head and muttered an excuse about needing to change out of his wet clothes.

“Yeah, those jeans must be chafing like a bitch,” Dennis had said, and immediately wished the ground would open beneath him and swallow him whole. He hated himself intensely in that moment for letting that be the first thing he said to Mac. 

Mac laughed weakly though, and Dennis changed his mind. It was worth it to hear him laugh.

He offered to drive them home while the rest of the gang went back to Paddy’s. They said their goodbyes, Charlie, Frank and Dee all parting with final compliments. He and Dennis made their way outside and into the car, and Mac had clammed back up the moment he closed the passenger door.

 

*

 

When they get back to the apartment, Mac makes a beeline for his room.

“Mac, wait,” Dennis calls just as Mac is turning the knob.

He turns to Dennis, looking more tired than Dennis has ever seen him look. He still doesn’t say a word, just waits for Dennis to continue.

“I uh,” Dennis starts, moving closer to Mac. He’s close enough now to see that Mac has goosebumps, and remembers that he’s still soaking wet.

“I just wanted to tell you, uh, you were really good tonight,” Dennis says, losing his nerve and dropping eye contact. “Incredible, really, I didn’t realize you were that um, limber.” He cringes at his feet. This is not what he wanted to say, it’s shallow and doesn’t adequately describe how categorically different Dennis feels.

He looks up to find Mac’s expression hasn’t changed. Dennis shifts uncomfortably.

“I mean it, Mac,” he says quietly. “I haven’t — I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time. Maybe ever. It was…inspiring,” he trails off, coughing quietly as he finishes.

It’s…still not enough, but it’s the best he can do for now.

Mac’s face falls, and Dennis panics, rewinding and trying to figure out what he said that was wrong. Mac’s lips tremble, slight enough that Dennis could still pretend he didn’t see, could turn around and walk away from this conversation now, retreat back to the stagnant indifference he’d been treating Mac with since he got back from North Dakota.

But he can’t stand it anymore. A childlike instinct takes over, his long dormant need to protect Mac rearing it’s head for the second time that night. He reaches out wordlessly and pulls Mac in, and Mac crashes into him, clutching at Dennis like a lifeline.

Mac buries his face in his shoulder, and Dennis holds on as tight as he can as Mac sobs. He rubs Mac’s back, shushes him, whispering “it’s okay,” into his hair. This makes Mac cry harder, his chest heaving against Dennis.

This has only happened once before, when Mac and Dennis were in high school and Luther had been arrested for the first time. That was the only other time in their lives that Dennis had seen Mac cry, and he held him through it then just as he was now. They had fallen asleep on Dennis’ bed that night, and woke tangled together, Mac’s head buried in Dennis’ neck. When he came to and realized where he was, Mac had pulled away in a panic and practically sprinted out of Dennis’ house. They never spoke of it again.

Mac startles as if he’s been shocked after a few minutes and pulls away, and it feels like deja vu.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathes, wiping at his eyes. Dennis swallows hard. “I know you don’t want me, you know,” he continues hoarsely, gesturing between them.

_You don’t want me touching you_ , Dennis finishes in his head.

He shakes his head, ignoring every instinct telling him to pull away, and reaches to cup Mac’s cheek. Mac freezes, his eyes desperate. Dennis swipes his thumb under his eye, wiping away a stray tear.  
  
“No, Mac, it’s alright,” he says quietly. “Come here.”  
  
He moves his hand to the back of Mac’s neck and guides him back towards him. Mac only hesitates for a moment before nestling back into Dennis’ embrace.

Mac’s sobs intensify this time, the dam in his chest finally bursting after years of repression. He’s nearly hysterical when Dennis slowly walks them to the couch, easing Mac down next to him. Mac never removes his face from Dennis’ neck. Once they’re seated he wraps his arms around Dennis’ torso, mirroring his position with his dance partner a few hours ago.

Dennis doesn’t know how long they stay there. It feels like hours before Mac finally calms down, his breathing slowly returning to normal, his shoulders relaxing under Dennis’ hands as he strokes his back, his hair.

“Dennis?” Mac whispers, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”  
  
Mac pauses. Dennis can’t see his face, but he can sense him struggling with himself. 

“My dad’s letters,” Mac starts. Dennis’ chest constricts. “Did he — did he really never say he loved me?”

His voice is so small. They may as well be fucking sixteen again, sitting at the bottom of that disgusting drained pool and passing a joint back and forth. Mac would spend hours waxing poetic about his dad and how deep down he knew he loved him, deep down he was a good Christian man who risked so much for the sake of his family. Dennis would listen to his delusions, biting his tongue and agreeing with everything Mac said, plying him with weed and sometimes alcohol, trying to fill the hole in Mac’s heart.

Now, Dennis grits his teeth, hating Luther, wishing intensely that he could rip his heart out the way he’s done to Mac his entire goddamn life.

“Please, Dennis,” Mac presses, voice shaky. “Just…tell me the truth. I need to know.”

Dennis hesitates. He considers lying again, but something tells him that it has to end. Mac deserves to know, needs to stop letting Luther have any say in his happiness or self worth. He needs to let him go once and for all.

Dennis pulls back, but he doesn’t let go of Mac as he looks at him. Mac’s eyes are red and puffy. He lifts a hand to his face again, brushing one of his swollen eyes with his thumb.

“No, Mac,” he says softly. “He never said it. I’m sorry.”

Mac just nods, expression blank. That almost breaks Dennis’ heart more than anything else. Mac looks so drained, his face empty and drawn.

“Mac?”

“I’m tired,” Mac deflects. “And cold. I’m gonna shower.”  
  
Mac pulls away from Dennis, not looking at him as he heads to the bathroom. Dennis shivers, and realizes his own shirt is wet from Mac’s clothes and tears.

When he gets into bed thirty minutes later, he doesn’t sleep for a long time. He stares at the ceiling, thinking about Mac and how he looked tonight, how he made Dennis feel.He burns. Burns with rage, and empathy, and fear, and something else he can’t name. He feels his eyes prick with tears when he thinks of Mac cradled in her arms, the barely there whispers of “it’s okay,” playing in a loop in his head. The longer he thinks of those two words, the more he feels an overwhelming sense of calm. He finally falls asleep to her voice in his head, feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time.

 

*

 

Mac is already awake when Dennis gets up the next morning. He’s in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for his usual protein smoothie and dressed for the gym. He’s put on a pot of coffee and left a mug out for Dennis.

“Hey,” Dennis greets tentatively. Mac turns around, and he could not look more different from last night than if he’d grown a second head. He smiles easily at Dennis, and he looks ten years younger.

“Morning,” Mac answers. “I made coffee.”  
  
“I see that,” Dennis responds, regretting it immediately. His dickish retorts are always right on the tip of his tongue these days. “Thank you,” he adds, trying to soften the blow.

Mac either didn’t detect the sarcasm at all or doesn’t care. He just smiles again and turns back to the blender.

Dennis pours himself a cup of coffee, then leans back against the counter as he drinks, watching Mac closely. His movements are light and easy, no tension at all in his shoulders. His expression is mild as he adds fruit and ice to the blender.

Mac notices his staring. “What?”

“Nothing, man.” Dennis pauses, hesitant to disturb the peace. He listens to the rhythmic sound of Mac chopping a banana into slices for a minute before pressing on. “Just…how are you feeling?”

Mac’s hand stills. He watches Dennis for a moment, his eyebrows creasing slightly. Dennis squirms a little under the scrutiny. Mac sighs and drops the knife, leans his hip against the counter and angles towards Dennis. His face smooths over.

“I’m great, Dennis,” he says, and his face is so earnest Dennis can’t help but believe him. 

“You are?” Dennis turns to face Mac, mirroring his position against the counter.

“Yeah, dude.” Mac smiles, so bright Dennis’ breath catches slightly. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt a bit before continuing.

“Look uh, thank you, for last night,” Mac continues, and Dennis feels his cheeks warm. He takes a sip of coffee to avoid looking at Mac, and when he looks up Mac is staring at Dennis like he hung the moon.

“Really, Dennis, thank you,” he says softly. He swallows hard but continues. “After you went to bed, I stayed up for a long time last night, thinking about — about everything. And I decided that things are going to be different now. I feel different, you know, I need to let go of a lot of shit that’s been weighing me down, like — like my dad. It’s clear now that he’ll never — you know,” he trails off, his voice breaking and face pinching sadly for the first time. 

He’s nervous, now. He’s not meeting Dennis’ eyes, his hands twisting in his shirt. Dennis struggles in the silence, not sure what to say, but Mac spares him by speaking again.

“And I think…” he starts, then takes a deep breath. Slowly he lifts his head and looks Dennis square in the face.

“I think I need to let go of you too,” he finally manages, and Dennis’ entire world flips on it’s axis.

Dennis is hardly aware of his hands dropping, hears the mug slamming onto the counter distantly. Mac jumps though, and gives Dennis a concerned look. However, when Dennis remains silent, Mac takes it as a sign to keep going.

“Not like, as friends dude,” he corrects. “I’m not saying that, you’ll always be my best friend. But I mean, I think you know… you know what I mean.” He’s blushing, and fiddling with his shirt again.

“No, Mac, I don’t know,” Dennis says, his voice icy.  
  
“Come on dude, yes you do.” Mac is practically pleading, but Dennis won’t give in.  
  
“No, I don’t,” he grates out. “Do you want me to move out, is that what you’re saying? You’re kicking me out, huh, now that your name is on the lease? You want to get back at me for kicking you out all those times?”

He knows it’s bullshit, he knows that Mac would never kick him out. He’s grasping at straws, trying to steer this conversation far far away from the inevitable. His heart is pounding in his chest.

Mac gapes at him. “Of course not, Dennis, how did you even—“ he falters. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his bedhead even more.

“Dennis, I’m in love with you.”

And there it is. Mac finally broke their unspoken rule. First rule of fight club and all that.

He’s staring at Dennis, waiting for a response, several expressions passing over his face before settling on resigned.

Dennis has no idea what his own face looks like. He’s trying to focus on calming his pulse, on making sure to breathe.

Again, Mac spares him a response, a kindness that Dennis probably doesn’t deserve.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, voice unbearably gentle. He knows, he _always_ fucking knows when Dennis is moments from a meltdown. “I just needed you to know, okay?”

Dennis hears himself laugh, of all things. It’s just a short exhalation with no warmth to it.

“You needed me to know,” Dennis repeats quietly. 

“Yeah, I do,” is all Mac says. He’s frowning, his eyebrows knit together. “Look, I’m not expecting anything here, okay? I heard you loud and clear, ‘ _it’s never gonna happen’_. I get it." 

“Then why are you telling me this, Mac?” Dennis asks, feeling hysteria bubbling in his throat. All of his alarms are blaring in his head at once. This is unwanted, hostile territory. 

“Because I — I’m moving on, okay, I’m finally ready,” Mac stammers, looking bewildered at having to explain himself. “I let go of a lot of shit last night, right, but it’s for nothing if I’m still hung up on something that will never happen.”

“Then why couldn’t you have just ‘moved on’ without telling me that, huh? Jesus Christ,” Dennis counters, stepping away and running his hands down his face when his back is turned.  
  
“It’s not like you didn’t already know,” Mac says behind him. “Don’t bullshit, dude, I know you knew.”

 “Of course I knew,” Dennis snarls as he turns around. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

Mac rolls his eyes. “I was not that obvious.”

Dennis laughs incredulously.

“No? Okay, then please, explain your very heterosexual and platonic reasons for buying me the RPG for _Valentine’s Day?_ ” Dennis asks, and its a low blow because that gift had meant the world to Dennis, and Mac knows it too. Mac doesn’t fight him on it though, just presses his lips together and lets Dennis continue his tirade. “Or when you wanted to raise Brian Jr. with me? Or all the times you tried to kiss me? Or when you—“

“Okay, shut up Dennis, Christ,” Mac interrupts. “Fine, you win! What’s your point?”  
  
“What’s _your_ fucking point?” Dennis counters. “You didn’t need to — I don’t — this doesn’t —“

“Calm down, Dennis,” Mac says. “I told you, I’m not expecting anything from you, okay. I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Oh, well, great then, so happy _you_ feel better Mac,” Dennis spits. He’s verging on cruel again, despite how fragile Mac probably still is. He can’t help it and he hates himself for it.

Mac just shakes his head. He must be wondering why he loves Dennis, why he wastes any of his time on someone like him.  
  
“Listen, if you want to forget this happened, that’s fine,” Mac says after a moment, sounding exhausted. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I just want you to know, I’m gonna back off, alright?”

Dennis doesn’t answer. His ears are ringing, he feels exposed, raw and out of control. Mac watches him for several long minutes. Eventually he turns back to his smoothie, calmly dicing fruit and measuring protein powder as if he hadn’t just turned Dennis’ universe inside out. Mac turns on the blender, and distantly Dennis thinks the sound perfectly mimics the turmoil in his head.

When he leaves for the gym five minutes later, he pauses on his way out of the kitchen. Dennis hasn’t moved. He’s frozen, unable to force his limbs to move. Mac tentatively reaches for his shoulder, just resting his hand on it. Dennis’ skin prickles at the contact, even through his shirt.

“Thanks again for last night, Dennis,” Mac says quietly. He looks as if he wants to say more, but decides against it at the last minute. He removes his hand and leaves, shutting the apartment door quietly behind him. Dennis immediately misses the warmth from his hand.

“Shit,” Dennis mutters to himself. He’s fucked.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally intended to be a one shot, but it got away from me and now I think its going to be a few more chapters because I can't shut the fuck up. 
> 
> also it was literally so hard trying to write how mfhp made dennis (read: me) feel and I absolutely didn't do it well. every single person who's written meta about this episode and has been able to express themselves with real actual words is a genius and I respect you so much.
> 
> title is from 'peasants' by houses, a song that was written for mac and that I have also already vidded to mfhp because it genuinely broke me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: semi intentional, semi accidental self-harm. non graphic descriptions of said injury, mentions of blood. brief suicidal ideation, brief dissociation. canon typical dennis exhibiting manipulative/abusive behavior. it's all pretty mild, but please be careful and take care of yourselves babes <3

When Dennis arrives at Paddy’s a few hours later, Mac isn’t there.

Dennis releases the breath he’d been holding and heads behind the bar immediately for a drink. The rest of the gang are all huddled around a large sheet of paper that looks suspiciously like blueprints and completely ignore Dennis’ entrance. _Good_ , Dennis thinks. His only goal for today is to get spectacularly drunk, and he doesn’t want or need the gang’s help in achieving that goal.

Dennis bypasses the beer and pours a shot of vodka. It’ll take hours of drinking beer to get wasted, and after the last twenty four hours he’s endured he’s looking for fast results. Vodka on an empty stomach will have him blacked out by two P.M.

He takes his shot and slams the glass onto the bar, and the others finally take notice.

“Shots? It’s barely one o’clock,” Dee comments, eyebrows high and judgmental. Dennis just flips her off and pours another. He downs it and immediately picks up the bottle again for a third.

“Whoah whoah, pace yourself Dennis,” Frank says, grabbing the bottle. Dennis hangs onto it, and they get caught in a game of tug of war. “We got work to do, can’t have you passing out on us.”  
  
“What are you talking about? The bar is empty,” Dennis argues, yanking hard and pulling the bottle out of Frank’s grip. He pours and drinks the third shot before Frank can grab it back.

“Not the bar,” Charlie pipes in, waving his hand dismissively. He’s ignored the scuffle completely and hasn’t stopped studying the blueprint in front of him. “This is way more important, dude.”

Dennis puts down the bottle and finally takes a closer look at what Charlie is poring over. He glances over the complicated schematics before he notices the title.

**Pennsylvania State Correctional Institution.**

He rears back, sputtering wildly.

“What the fuck is this?” he manages, voice strangled. “Where did you get this?”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Frank says. “We need to get you up to speed, you’re gonna be our inside man.”  
  
“Inside _what_?” Dennis squawks.  
  
“Again, I have to point out that I very strongly disagree with Dennis being the infiltrator,” Charlie interjects, ignoring Dennis’ minor meltdown next to him. “I’m way sneakier, man, and can get in and out of tight spaces much better than Dennis.”

“Again, your disagreement is noted,” Frank responds. “You’re way too volatile Charlie. I’m done with this argument, we’re moving on.”  
  
“Okay okay okay, everyone shut up,” Dennis interrupts, snatching the blueprint off the bar. Charlie utters an indignant “hey!” that Dennis steadfastly ignores. “What the hell are you talking about? What is this?”

“We’re gonna whack Luther, obviously,” Charlie answers matter of factly, as if he’s reporting the weather.

“We — what?” Dennis isn’t sure if his voice can pitch any higher at this point.

“Of course we are!” Frank exclaims. “Didn’t you see that shit he pulled yesterday? It has to be done.”  
  
“Okay, first of all, it absolutely does not,” Dennis says, trying to force some measure of calm into his voice and holding the blueprints away from Charlie’s reaching hands. “Second of all, since when do you give a shit?”

For some godforsaken reason, that gives the three of them pause. They stare at Dennis like they’ve never seen him before.

“Dude, do you not have feelings again?” Charlie asks after a few terse seconds.

Dennis blinks, his mouth gaping. “I —“  
  
“Yeah, you’d have to be a real piece of shit to not have felt something yesterday, Dennis,” Frank adds. “What’s the matter with you? How could you _not_ want to whack that asshole?”

“Damn dude. I know you say you hate Mac all the time, but I didn’t think you actually did,” Charlie says quietly.

“Yeah, Dennis,” Dee pipes in, and Dennis feels cornered, can feel panic starting to course through his veins. “You’ve been his best friend for like, twenty-seven years, that’s fucked up —“

“Okay enough, Jesus!” he snaps. “I didn’t say _I_ didn’t give a shit, I believe I asked when _you_ did, Frank.” He points at Frank angrily for emphasis. “Or you for that matter, Dee!” he adds, gesturing in her direction.

They each shift uncomfortably and don’t answer. Dennis takes advantage of their silence and presses on.

“Alright. Now that we agree that we all secretly care about Mac,” he continues, exasperated, like he’s speaking to a group of toddlers, “Can someone please explain to me how _murdering_ his _father_ will achieve anything other than breaking Mac’s heart even more?”

The three of them look at each other. Charlie shrugs, and Dee nods slightly to herself as if agreeing with Dennis.

“Exactly,” Dennis says smugly. “So don’t tell me I don’t give a shit about Mac, when I’m the only one thinking about his feelings here. _Clearly_ , I care about him more than any of you.”

For a moment, he doesn’t even realize what he’s said. He’s so caught up in the thrill of winning another pointless argument that the implication of what he said doesn’t dawn on him until Dee smirks. He feels his cheeks heat up again and blusters ahead, choosing to pretend it didn’t happened.

“And another thing…” he hands the blueprint back to Charlie as he speaks, and pours another shot of vodka to hide his embarrassment. “How the hell were you planning to even get into the prison?”

Frank clears his throat. “Well, you’ve got all those priors, we figured we’d get you arrested to get you in there —“

“You’d _what_?” Dennis screeches. He turns on Frank so quickly he knocks the shot glass over, vodka spilling all over the bar.

“See, I told you he’d never go for it,” Dee sighs.

“You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t! First of all, fuck you for trying to use me as some sort of sacrifice. Second of all —“  
  
“Oh, but I thought you cared about Mac ‘more than anyone’ _,_ ” Frank mocks, fingers hanging in air quotes. Dennis clamps his mouth shut, cheeks flaming again. “You should be _offering_ to be the sacrifice if you’re so goddamn in love with him.”  
  
Dennis is pretty sure his blood pressure is at a critical level by now. Like, he should probably be calling an ambulance. His face is on fire. Frank doesn’t realize it of course, but that phrase is the worst possible one he could have used against Dennis today. He glares at him, longing to punch him right in his pompous goblin face. Instead he picks up the fallen shot glass for something to do with his hands, clenching it so hard he half expects it to shatter.

“Second of all,” Dennis repeats, voice dripping with venom, “A trial and sentencing could take months, maybe years, so nice planning moron.”  
  
“Hey, at least I’m trying to do something here!” Frank exclaims. “He deserves it! And Charlie and Deandra are with me, right?”

Charlie and Dee glance at each other uneasily.  
  
“Well —“  
  
“Dennis does bring up a good point —“  
  
“Maybe this isn’t the best plan —“

“You gotta be goddamn kidding me!” Frank cries, and Dennis smiles. “An hour ago you traitors couldn’t wait to clobber that piece of shit!”

“We’re not traitors!” Charlie shrieks. “He still deserves to get whacked, but there are a lot of holes in this plan!”

“Like what?” Frank demands. “Other than the trial hiccup, this plan is airtight!”

“No, actually it’s not,” Dee argues. “For example, how do we get him back out? And _how_ does he not end up serving life for murdering an inmate?”

Dennis nods enthusiastically, raises his empty glass to Dee. “Thank you!”

“He wouldn’t be doing the actual whacking, I got a guy on the inside.”

Distantly, Dennis remembers Frank shaking the hand of one of the prisoners after breaking away from the gang yesterday. He’d nearly forgotten after everything that had happened since.

“If you have a guy already, why would I need to be in the prison at all?” he asks. He sees Charlie and Dee nod in agreement out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“So you could give him a piece of your mind first! So that shitstain could feel some regret and shame for what he did to Mac before he croaked! You’re always going on those long winded, rage filled rants, you're the perfect one for the job!”

Dennis sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “So just to be clear… you were perfectly fine with risking me being imprisoned for life for conspiring to murder someone, just to send Luther a message, before then having someone _else_ who was already on the inside do the dirty work?” he says slowly.

Frank considers for a moment, pursing his lips together.

“Yeah,” he says simply. Dennis barely suppresses the urge to strangle him.

“Goddammit, Frank,” Dennis mutters.

“Alright alright, fine, I’ll just have my guy do it without you, but it won’t be as satisfying if he don’t know why its happening!”

“No, Frank! Mac won’t appreciate you having his dad killed, are you fucking kidding me? It’ll crush him.”

“Well he at least needs to get his ass kicked,” Dee says, taking a long swig of beer, voice full of conviction. “Have your guy breaks his kneecaps or something.”

Dennis looks at Dee, furrowing his eyebrows. He makes a mental note to revisit his sister’s apparent newfound friendship with Mac once everyone has finished losing their goddamn minds.

“We uh, we may have a problem there,” Frank admits, wringing his hands. “See the deal I made was for a whacking, and I didn’t specify when, so if he gets antsy he could take it upon himself to go ahead with it before I give the go ahead.”

“God. Dammit.” Dennis hisses, running a hand down his face. “Get down to the prison and undo it Frank. _Now_.”  
  
“How? I don’t even know the guy’s name!”  
  
“You don’t — how in the hell were you going to pay him then? You are so goddamn messy and inefficient, I swear to god—“

“Alright calm your tits, I’ll figure something out. That whole place is rife with bribery. How do you think I managed to pull off that whole —” he gesticulates aimlessly, seemingly at a loss for how to describe what happened at the prison, and yeah. Dennis gets it.

“Just go,” Dennis exhales, feeling utterly exhausted. Frank thankfully sees sense and leaves without another word.

Dennis pours and downs another shot. After, he focuses on breathing deeply through his nose, trying to control the fury building beneath his ribs.

“Get that out of here before Mac shows up,” he tells Charlie.

“Yeah,” is all Charlie says, messily folding the blueprint and heading to the back office.

He feels Dee’s eyes on him as he wipes the spilled vodka off the bar. He can tell she’s going to start prying, so he nips it in the bud and starts in on her instead.

“Seriously Dee, when did you and Mac become so buddy buddy? Last I checked, you two couldn’t stand each other. But… you know, for real,” he adds, realizing that he also maintained that he couldn’t stand Mac for several years. Everyone clearly saw right through that, something Dennis is decidedly _not_ thinking about right now, but Dee and Mac had always had a genuinely strained relationship.

Dee just shrugs. “While you were gone, we hung out a lot. He was pretty pathetic and lost without you, and I don’t know, I felt bad for him. It’s still a love-hate relationship,” she says simply. “But we understand each other better now, I guess.”

She looks away shiftily, focused on finishing her beer, and Dennis still gets the feeling she’s keeping something from him. He opens his mouth, intent to wheedle it out of her one way or another, but at that moment the door opens and Mac walks in.

“Hey-o!” he calls breezily.

All the air is sucked out of Dennis’ lungs. Instantly, the room is heavy with tension, and Dennis feels oddly self conscious, their conversation this morning ringing in his ears the moment he sees Mac. Distantly he’s aware of Dee saying something to Mac in response, but he’s rooted to the spot, throat tight.

Mac is oblivious to Dennis’ struggle. He sits down and cracks open a beer, scrolling through something on his phone, hardly giving Dennis a second glance. Dennis peers at Dee and sees she’s watching him closely. He knows she senses the tension and glares, trying to communicate with his eyes just how intensely she will suffer his wrath if she opens her mouth.

Charlie comes out of the office at that moment, saving Dennis from whatever Dee was about to say.  
  
“Hey buddy,” Charlie greets, patting Mac’s shoulder. Mac looks up from his phone, grinning easily at Charlie.

“Hey,” he replies. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Charlie answers, a little too quickly. Mac looks around at Dennis and Dee, then back to Charlie. Dee and Charlie both have awkward, dubious smiles on their faces, watching Mac almost expectantly. Dennis is desperately trying to shove down his mild panic, working hard to control his facial expression.

It obviously isn’t working. Mac frowns. “This is weird. Are you guys high?”

“What? No,” Charlie answers. “No, I mean, not yet anyway. Do you wanna get high?” he asks, still speaking too quickly. “Because I’ve got some good shit in the basement we can share.” It’s a weirdly touching gesture.  
  
“I’m good, bro,” Mac says, still frowning. He looks between the three of them again, clearly confused. Dennis finally manages to force himself to move and starts to restock the peanuts. Charlie and Dee follow suit. Dee starts putting away beer glasses, Charlie heads to the bathroom with his mop in hand, and Mac thankfully doesn’t pursue it any further.

 

*

 

The rest of the afternoon continues in the same curious fashion. Dee and Charlie go out of their way to be nice to Mac, picking up some of his usual work duties and laughing extra loud at his jokes. Mac goes along with it easily, doesn’t seem to think it’s anything out of the ordinary. Or more likely, Dennis reasons, he does notice but is reluctant to comment on it and fall out of their favor. He’s craved the gang’s approval for too long to let it slip away when he wins even the tiniest sliver of their attention. Something twinges uncomfortably in Dennis’ gut at the thought.

Dennis, on the other hand, is doing his best to avoid Mac. He can’t stop reliving Mac’s confession, hearing it on a constant loop in his head, threatening to drive him crazy. Mac seems completely fine, which just adds to Dennis’ slow descent into insanity. Every time Mac opens his mouth, Dennis’ brain short circuits and he can’t hear anything but those five words over and over.

He’s so desperate to distance himself that he volunteers for bussing duties in lieu of Charlie. It kind of works. He’s removed from Mac’s immediate vicinity, but it also gives him easy access to watch him from across the bar unobserved.

He’s not sure if it’s because of all the attention he’s getting from Charlie and Dee, or a result of his epiphany yesterday, or maybe a combination of both but Mac looks…light. As if a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Which, it has, he supposes. He’s smiling more easily than ever before, joking and laughing and more carefree than Dennis has ever seen him. Even more than when they were in in high school. 

It’s not just Mac’s demeanor that Dennis is intrigued by. He finds himself watching the muscles in Mac’s arms move as he lifts a bag of limes onto the bar. Stares at the crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he laughs at something Charlie says, wondering how he can make crows feet look so damn good. He studies Mac’s face as it filters through twenty different emotions with each story he tells, hypnotized by how expressive and animated Mac is.

He’s so distracted that the tray of beer bottles he’s bussing from one of the booths tips forward in his hands, upending all of them on the ground. The sound of glass shattering finally snaps Dennis out of his trance. He blinks and shakes his head slightly to clear his head.

Mac rushes over, concern etched all over his annoyingly pretty face. God, it’s fucking irritating how good he still looks at forty years old. Dennis can’t fucking stand him.

“Hey, you okay?” Mac asks when he reaches Dennis. He’s standing back to avoid the broken glass, but his hands still reach towards Dennis. “Don’t move, Charlie’s getting the broom.”

Dennis’ jaw clenches. Something dark takes over, and heat floods his veins like a fever, making his brain go hazy at the edges. He almost can’t control himself as he takes a slow, deliberate step towards Mac, his foot landing right in the pile of broken glass.

Unfortunately, he deeply underestimated two important factors: the size of the shards scattered on the floor, and the thickness of the soles of his shoes.

Mac chokes out some kind of wordless warning and steps forward to stop Dennis a second too late. Pain shoots up Dennis’ leg and he feels blood flood his shoe almost immediately.

“FUCK!” Dennis yells, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Goddammit, shit, fuckfuckfuck!” He’s vaguely aware of Charlie rushing over, broom in hand, pausing when Mac holds out a hand to stop him. 

“Dennis! Dude, _stay there_ ,” Mac repeats more forcefully. He steps delicately around the larger shards until he can reach Dennis properly. “Dee, go get the first aid kit.”  
  
“We don’t have a —“  
  
“It’s in the office! Second drawer, underneath Frank’s box of bullets.”

In any other circumstance, Dennis would spend a few minutes pointing out the irony of Mac choosing to stash a first aid kit with a box of bullets, but he can’t think about anything beyond the sharp, stabbing agony in his right foot. 

Mac has one hand on Dennis’ left shoulder, supporting his weight as Dennis balances on his uninjured foot. The other is holding Dennis’ hand in a death grip. Dennis hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed it, but it’s the only thing keeping him from tearing out his own hair just to distract himself from the pain. He leans into Mac, his breaths coming shallow and fast.

“Dennis, breathe, okay, you’re gonna be fine,” Mac is saying quietly, squeezing Dennis’ hand tightly for emphasis. “Do you think you can move yourself?”  
  
“Considering I have a three inch shard of glass sticking out of my foot, no, not really seeing that as a possibility,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Mac ignores his tone. His thumb is absently rubbing circles against Dennis’ wrist.

“Charlie, sweep some of those bigger pieces out of the way,” Mac instructs. Charlie obeys without a word. Once most of the glass is out of the way, Mac drops Dennis’ hand and shifts so that his chest is perpendicular to Dennis’ shoulder.

“Okay, ready?” he asks Dennis. Dennis doesn’t get the chance to ask what he’s talking about before Mac is bending slightly and picking Dennis up bridal style.

Dennis yelps in surprise, arms instinctively wrapping around Mac’s neck. He lifts Dennis effortlessly, and just stands there with him in his arms for a minute as he considers where to put him.

“Dee, come on, where’s the kit?” Mac calls. He gestures to one of the cleaner looking booths with his neck and tells Charlie to clear the table. Dee emerges a moment later with what looks like a first aid kit from the 90s in hand.

Charlie hastily shoves the napkin holder and drink menu on the ground, and Mac lowers Dennis on the tabletop as gently as he can. Dennis hisses as a fresh stab of pain explodes up his calf when it hits the surface. He leans his back against the wall, his feet hanging over the edge. His hands are gripping the edges of the table so tight his knuckles are white.

Mac takes the kit from Dee and shoos both her and Charlie away, muttering something about giving them space. They back up a few feet but remain nearby, watching Mac closely. Mac kneels down and examines the piece of glass protruding from Dennis’ shoe.

“Uh, I’m going to have to pull this out, okay Dennis?” he says shakily. “Unless — maybe we should call 911?”  
  
“No,” Dennis grits out. “Too expensive,” he gasps, breathing deeply to prepare himself. “Just do it.”

Mac looks at him anxiously, but doesn’t argue. He supports Dennis’ ankle gently with his right hand, and grasps the glass shard as lightly as possible with the other. Even that tiny amount of pressure has Dennis crying out in pain.

“Fuck,” Dennis breathes. Mac hesitates at Dennis’ reaction, but maintains his grip on the shard.

“Dennis, we should really call —“ Dee starts, but he cuts her off.  
  
“Just fucking do it,” Dennis repeats, eyes screwed shut. He can feel cold sweat on his forehead.

“Okay, okay,” Mac whispers. “On three. One, two, three —“

Mac yanks, and it’s both the best and worst feeling as the foreign body is finally removed from arch of his foot. He hears himself yelling, but is completely unaware of what’s coming out of his mouth.

When his breathing regulates slightly and he can finally open his eyes, he sees Mac is leaned over the table, one hand on Dennis’ knee, the other gripping one of Dennis’ hands again. He’s not sure who reached out to who this time, and he doesn’t care. He clutches at Mac, silently willing him to stay put.

He feels tugging at his foot and realizes Dee is trying to take off his shoe. When she finally pulls it off, he feels a concerning amount of blood gush out of it.

“Holy shit,” Charlie says in awe.

Mac twists his head around to look, and when he looks back at Dennis his face is pale.

“Dude, that’s a lot of blood,” he says hoarsely. 

“This is why you don’t take six shots of vodka before six P.M.,” Dee says mildly as she gathers a wad of gauze in her hand. “Then maybe your drunk ass wouldn’t be in this position.”

“Dee, you bitch, I’m not drunk,” Dennis retorts, voice harsh and breathy. “It’s like ten o’clock, that was hours ago.”

“I know, but that’s why you’re bleeding like this, asshole,” she shoots back. He groans as Dee presses the gauze to his wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. He squeezes Mac’s hand hard.

“Charlie, go get a wet rag, he’s sweating like crazy,” Mac says over his shoulder. Charlie nods and heads to the bathroom.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

“Shut up Dennis,” Dee snaps. She removes the gauze and looks closely at his foot now that some of the blood is cleared. “I don’t see any more glass, but it’ll be hard to tell for sure without a magnifying glass or something.”

“I think Frank might have one in the office,” Mac says. Dee gets up without a word and heads to the office to check.

They’re alone for the first time since this morning. Mac is looking at Dennis like he’s dying, his expression stricken.

“Why did you do that, Dennis?” he asks, voice so soft and strangled it’s barely audible over Dennis’ heavy breathing.

Dennis returns Mac’s gaze. He racks his brain trying to think of an answer, but comes up blank. He can’t even explain to himself why, there’s no way he could come up with a reason that Mac will accept or understand.

They spend a few tense moments just staring at each other, Mac’s face expectant and eyebrows creased.

Charlie returns from the bathroom, drawing Mac’s attention away from Dennis. He hands Mac a decently clean looking wet cloth, then kneels down to examine Dennis’ foot.

“Don’t touch it, Charlie,” Mac says sharply. “I know for a fact you haven’t washed your hands since you cleaned up that dude’s puke an hour ago.”

“I wasn’t going to touch it!” Charlie says, voice suspiciously high, the way it gets when he’s lying.

Mac rolls his eyes and presses the wet cloth to Dennis’ forehead. Dennis can’t help but sigh in relief and close his eyes, the cold feeling better than anything else in the world to him right now. Mac gently moves it back and forth across his forehead, wiping the sweat away.

“I can’t find the goddamn magnifying glass,” Dee calls as she walks back towards Dennis. Dennis opens his eyes and sees Mac is still watching him closely. It’s starting to get annoying, but he bites his tongue, unwilling to let Mac stop touching him.  
  
They clean up Dennis’ foot as best as they can, considering their lack of expertise and ancient medical tools. All three of them take a close look to check for any remaining shards in his foot before bandaging it. Mac inspects it about five times himself before deciding that it’s probably all out. He applies some antibiotic cream, then wraps gauze around his foot so gently Dennis barely feels it.

Mac and Charlie help Dennis hop out to the Range Rover, supporting his weight with his arms around their shoulders. Mac half lifts Dennis into the passenger seat when they reach it. Dennis watches as he spends a minute talking to Charlie by the entrance to the bar. Mac is nodding, and then he pats Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie disappears inside. Mac stands still for a minute. He’s angled away from Dennis, but he can still see him wipe both hands down his face, shoulders hunched and defeated looking. Dennis’s stomach clenches. After a minute, Mac heads back to the car and gets in the drivers seat. He puts it in gear without a word, not even looking at Dennis.

The drive home is silent, just like yesterday. Mac’s attitude has shifted completely now that they’re alone again. His anger is almost palpable, Dennis can feel it seep into every surface, can feel it like he can sense the electricity in the air before a thunderstorm.

The ache in his foot has dulled to a moderate throb by the time they reach the apartment. Mac gets out and helps Dennis out of the car, only speaking when he needs to direct Dennis on where to put his arm, or how to position his foot.

They make it upstairs slowly, Dennis leaning heavily on Mac the entire way. Mac walks him to his room and drops Dennis unceremoniously onto his bed when they reach it.

He leaves before Dennis can say anything, but returns a few minutes later with a bundle of clothes, a pill bottle, and a glass of water.

“Here’s some clean pajamas,” he says, thrusting them into Dennis’ arms. He sets the water and pills on the night stand. “And some painkillers. They should be okay to take with alcohol, but I’ll check on you later to be sure.”

Dennis’ chest constricts. Mac is so pissed, but he’s still here, still taking care of Dennis, and it’s too much. He swallows hard.

“Mac —“ he starts, but Mac shakes his head and sighs loudly.

“It’s fine, Dennis,” he says, but Dennis can tell he doesn’t mean it.

“No, it’s not,” Dennis insists. “You’re pissed.”

Mac presses his lips together but doesn’t deny it. Dennis is at a loss. He doesn’t really want to fight with Mac, but he doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know how to explain himself. So he pushes, because fighting is as familiar and natural as breathing to the two of them, the only thing Dennis knows how to do when he’s pushed out of his comfort zone.  
  
“Well, sorry for ruining your night, I guess,” Dennis says, hating how petty he sounds. It works though. Mac’s face clouds over.

“That’s not why I’m pissed.”

“Then please enlighten me, Mac, because last I checked _I’m_ the one who’s suffering here —“  
  
“ _Why_ did you do that, Dennis?” Mac interrupts, repeating his question from the bar.

Dennis’ mouth snaps shut so fast he hears his teeth click together. He wasn’t expecting Mac to be so direct, he thought he’d be able to argue around the topic for awhile before Mac would retreat, spent and frustrated and unable to be in the same room as Dennis.

Mac presses when Dennis still doesn’t answer. “Is it because of what I said this morning?”

 _Fuck_.

“What are you talking about, Mac?” Dennis deflects, scoffing as if Mac didn’t just hit the nail on the head on the first try. 

Mac runs his hands through his hair in frustration, and Dennis is momentarily distracted with how perfectly it falls over his forehead afterwards. He doesn’t have time to dwell on that weird observation though, because Mac is still demanding an answer.

“I’m talking about the fact that I told you I was moving on, and less than twenty-four hours later you intentionally hurt yourself. That’s like, abusive behavior, dude.”

Dennis gapes, scrambling with how to deal with this newly self aware Mac. “Intentionally? Mac, it was an accident.”  
   
“Bullshit,” Mac spits. His voice is getting louder. “You looked me dead in the eye as you did it, don’t try and tell me it wasn’t on purpose.”

“It wasn’t!” Dennis argues, and he pushes himself into a standing position. He has a hard time balancing on one foot, but he refuses to let Mac have the upper hand. “It — you wouldn’t understand, just let it go.”  
  
“No,” Mac says stubbornly. Dennis knows he’s the one that started this, but his blood is boiling already, hands itching to shove Mac, or scratch him, or kick him in the dick. 

“Fine! You know what, you want to go there? Let’s go there. I couldn’t help it,” Dennis admits. “I wasn’t even aware I was doing it, something just — just took over and I couldn’t stop myself. And maybe I _was_ pissed at you! For saying all that love shit, for ruining everything, for making me —“

He stops short, breathing heavily again. Mac is just staring at him, expression unreadable.

Dennis bites his lip, forcing himself to shut up before he reveals anything else.  
  
Eventually Mac looks away, visibly deflating. He looks so tired. Was it really just a few hours ago that Mac had looked so happy before Dennis destroyed it again? That must be a personal record, Dennis thinks bitterly.

“Mac, look —“

“Don’t bother Dennis. I’m sorry,” Mac says quietly.

“You’re —? No, Mac, listen —“  
  
“Just go to sleep, Dennis,” Mac sighs, holding up a hand to stop him. “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”  
  
He leaves, and something fractures in Dennis’ chest.

He stares after Mac for a long time. He hears Mac gather a blanket and pillow from his room, hears him lay down on their uncomfortable couch, hears him shift and sigh as he tries to get comfortable. He’s going to fuck up his back, all because he wants to be close by if Dennis needs him.

Dennis collapses on the bed, barely registering the twinge of pain in his foot when it bears a little of his weight. He looks at the pill bottle Mac left on his night stand. It’s tempting. Dennis wants to take them, to pass out and forget tonight ever happened. He wants to take the whole bottle and fall asleep and never wake up. He wants to flush them down the toilet and feel everything, because it’s what he deserves, to feel the pain and the full impact of what a piece of shit he is.

His hand shoots out suddenly, knocking the bottle to the ground. It rattles loudly, and Mac must hear, because he left the door cracked, but he ignores it. Dennis’ foot throbs, and his stomach churns. He rolls over and waits for sleep that takes hours to come.

 

*

 

Dennis wakes hours later to the feel of Mac’s fingers on his wrist. It’s dark, and cold. He’d fallen asleep on top of the covers. Dennis can hear Mac’s quiet breathing in the oppressive silence as he checks Dennis’ pulse. Dennis is on his side, facing away from Mac, and pretends to sleep as Mac’s fingers brush down his hand.

He feels Mac gently check Dennis’ bandage. When he’s satisfied that Dennis isn’t bleeding through it, he eases a blanket over his body and quietly pads back into the living room. Dennis is left alone, trying and failing to fight the tears that spill hot onto his cheeks.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'the gang whacks luther' is a title card I'm very interested in seeing in s14 @rcg pls
> 
> oof. sorry for ending a chapter with dennis crying. :( this chapter started out light hearted and escalated really quickly. at least we finally got mac picking up dennis bridal style with his big sexy arms!!
> 
> by the way I hope you're picking up on my attempt to make macdee gay solidarity bffs happen because its what we deserve. 
> 
> i want to try and update this weekly, so lookout for chapter 3 next weekend hopefully!
> 
> i'm on tumblr @hyruling if you wanna come talk to me! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sure you don’t wanna bang him?”
> 
> Dennis tips the bottle back and finishes it in one chug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: alcohol abuse and vomiting, mention of underage drinking/drug use. I realize this is a sunny fic so its kind of understood that this is just canon-typical content but I want to cover my bases, be safe babes <3
> 
> also not really a content warning but more of a dumbass warning (read: I'm the dumbass): theres a link to a particular version of a song in this chapter and you absolutely don't need to click on it if you can't stand that kind of thing, because its honestly ridiculous of me, but it does kinda set the mood nicely imo  
> EDIT: a wonderful person made an even BETTER version of the song I linked, so it's been updated to their version <3

They don’t talk about it. 

They barely talk at all, in fact. The three days after Dennis hurts his foot are some of the longest of his life. He and Mac circle each other, orbiting each other’s space like planets orbiting the sun; relying on each other to exist but never making contact. They only speak to each other when absolutely necessary, and any time they’re at home together they spend all their time locked in their respective rooms.

It’s making Dennis crazy. He wants to explain himself, he wants to turn back time and go back to the way things were before Mac told him he loved him, back when things were safe and familiar. But he doesn’t know how to do either. Every time he tries to apologize, he chokes before he can get the first word out and swallows it back down, the words burning in his throat like acid.

Dennis’ foot heals. By day four A.M.C. (After Mac’s Confession, Dennis has dubbed it in his growing insanity), he’s barely limping anymore. Sometimes he catches Mac watching him as he hobbles around the bar, the only indication he has that he doesn’t completely hate his guts.

It’s Monday morning, and Paddy’s doesn’t open for another five hours. Unable to sit in his room wallowing in self pity any longer, he calls Charlie.

“Yeah?” Charlie grunts when he picks up.  
  
“What are you doing?”

“Uhhh, Frank just left and I was about to polish off the bottle of Cognac he thinks I don’t know about —“

“I’m coming over,” Dennis announces, already grabbing his jacket and keys from the dresser.

“Okay? Oh hey, bring Cheetos!” he requests before hanging up abruptly.  
  
Dennis wrinkles his nose in disgust. Charlie’s palate is absolutely appalling.

He stops at a gas station on the way to Charlie’s to get the Cheetos. He picks up a pack of Marlboros too. He hasn’t smoked in over a year, not since he moved to North Dakota. Mandy had insisted he quit for Brian Jr.’s sake, and it had actually been kind of nice to have kicked one of his addictions. But he’s never needed a cigarette more than he does now. He smokes three in quick succession during the short drive to Charlie’s, reveling in the way the nicotine soothes his frayed nerves with each inhale.

When he arrives at Charlie’s apartment, he can tell he’s already a little tipsy. He hands the bag of Cheetos to Charlie without a word, then promptly picks up the bottle of Cognac.

He whistles low under his breath when he gets a good look at the bottle. “This is expensive shit, dude, won’t Frank be pissed at you?” he asks.

Charlie shrugs. “He owes me anyway, he got rid of all my paint cans.”

“You’re drinking paint again?” Dennis says, eyebrows raised.

“Uhh, that’s none of your business dude,” Charlie answers in a shrill voice, ripping open the bag of Cheetos and digging in voraciously. “What are you even doing here? You can leave, if you’re just gonna stand around judging me, bro.”

Dennis sighs, picks out one of the few of Charlie’s glasses that aren’t covered in filth and pours himself a drink. 

“I’m here for this.” Dennis holds up the glass to Charlie, then slams it back. He coughs a little, but picks up the bottle again for another.

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to sip that,” Charlie says indifferently as Dennis throws back another shot.

“I don’t give a shit,” Dennis gasps, throat burning.

“What’s wrong with you dude? You’ve been really weird since you cut your foot. Did it get infected?”

“No, it’s not infected, it’s fine.”

Dennis sits heavily on the couch. Charlie joins him, and they pass the bottle back and forth, forgoing glasses and drinking straight from the bottle. Charlie turns on the TV, and they watch wrestling in silence for a few minutes.

Dennis isn’t paying attention to the match. He’s considering his rather limited options. Typically, this sort of situation is one he’d shove down deep, something he’d ignore and bottle the way he’s done for years. But it’s eating away at him. It’s all he can think about, and he’s exhausted and irritated with the whole thing. He needs to make it go away. 

He can’t talk to Mac, obviously. His first instinct would be Dee. She’s his twin, after all, she understands him more than most. But she’d also be smug as shit and he’d never hear the end of it. He’d be haunted by her shiteating grin for the rest of his life. And Frank is out of the question. Even when Dennis thought he was his dad he was never the kind of father you could confide in, and that’s only become more veritable over the years. However, he does seem to be trying to make up for his shitty parenting with Charlie, and now Mac. The knowledge of that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he tables it for another day. 

That leaves him with Charlie. Of the entire gang, himself excluded of course, Charlie _is_ arguably the most intuitive. He’s also the least likely to laugh at him, or judge him. All things considered, he’s not a bad option.

Charlie offers the bag of Cheetos to him. Dennis declines by holding up a hand, and Charlie looks at him properly for the first time since he arrived.

“Seriously dude, you look like shit. You okay?”

It’s as good an opening as he’s going to get. He inhales deeply.

“Mac told me he’s in love with me,” he admits as he exhales. No sense in beating around the bush. He stares at the bottle of cognac in his hand, blushing despite his best effort to seem unaffected.

“Ohhhh,” Charlie says quietly, dragging out the “o” for a good ten seconds. Dennis nods seriously next to him, still not making eye contact.

“Exac—“

“So you finally banged?”  
  
“—tly — _what?_ ” Dennis yelps, whirling around to face Charlie in alarm. Charlie just raises his eyebrows as Dennis gawks at him.

“What? That’s why you’re being so —“ he gestures vaguely at Dennis, who’s gripping the bottle of cognac tightly in his suddenly sweaty hands, “— weird, right?” he finishes.

“ _No_!” Dennis barks. “No, of course not, why would — I don’t — _no_!”

Charlie snorts.

“Alright, sorry I guess,” Charlie says, sounding anything but apologetic and holding his hands up defensively. “Can you really blame me for thinking that?”

“ _Yes_ , I can! I’m not — I’m not even gay, Charlie!” he disputes. He swallows hard, tries to get his breathing under control. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

“Right,” is all Charlie says in response. Dennis’ stomach jolts. “So your problem here is that I assumed you’re gay, not that I thought you wanted to bang Mac? That’s kinda homophobic dude.”

He’s pretty sure his face is going to melt off. His insides are turning to jelly, and they’re going to drip right out of his body and onto Charlie’s disgusting carpet.

“I’m — that’s not what this is about!” he stammers. “We’re veering way off course here.”  
  
“No we’re not dude. You’re freaking out because Mac has feelings for you, and you want to bang him —“  
  
“I didn’t say that!”

“—and his feelings are making things all emotional and shit, which you don’t handle very well.”

“I handle them just fine! I am in perfect control of my emotions at all times,” he claims. His voice cracks slightly, weakening his argument.

Charlie just looks at him with an oddly shrewd expression. Dennis rolls his eyes, attempting to show Charlie exactly how chill and nonchalant he is, and takes another swig of cognac. He grips the bottle tighter to hide how his hands are shaking.

Charlie sighs. “Okay so what, did he try to bang you after he told you or something?”

“No,” Dennis says, handing the bottle over to Charlie’s outstretched hand. “No, he just said he needed to ‘get it off his chest’, and that he wasn’t expecting anything from me, and that he’s — he’s ‘moving on’.”

“Okay,” Charlie says slowly. He takes a sip as he mulls it over. “So, he didn’t make a move on you, he doesn’t expect you to say it back, and you _aren’t_ gay.” Dennis detects a hint of sarcasm in the last statement but doesn’t push it.

He knew he should have gone to Dee. Charlie’s perceptiveness is proving to be a disadvantage.

“So, what’s your issue then?”

“The _issue_ is that he just — he made it weird! It’s awkward as shit now, and he’s ignored me for days, all because he thinks —“

He cuts himself off. Charlie looks at him expectantly, refusing to break eye contact.

“He thinks what?” Charlie presses. Dennis looks away, exhales loudly. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, dude.”

“He thinks I hurt myself on purpose the other day,” Dennis admits after a beat.

He takes an ample drink of cognac, and finally, blessedly starts to feel it working. His head feels fuzzy and warm, the pounding in his ears dulls marginally.

He glances back to Charlie. He’s nodding in understanding.  
  
“I mean, it kinda makes sense,” Charlie says. “You’ve been manipulating him for years, dude, of course he’d think that.”

“But why would I manipulate him that way? What would be my angle?” Dennis questions. It hits him then that this is why he came here. That he’s genuinely asking Charlie’s opinion, because everything is so fucked up in his head that he can’t even understand himself anymore, doesn’t even know what his own motivations are.

Charlie shrugs, pulling the bottle from Dennis’ grip.

“Well, way I see it, he said he was moving on and that freaked you out, so you hurt yourself because you knew he would stick around. He won’t go anywhere if he knows you’re in pain dude, and you know it.”

He takes a long swig when he finishes, and Dennis just stares, mouth falling open slightly, heart racing. He really should have confided in someone way less astute.

“Shit,” he mutters hoarsely.

Charlie hands back the bottle, then slaps Dennis on the knee good naturedly.

“You sure you don’t wanna bang him?”

Dennis tips the bottle back and finishes it in one chug.

 

*

 

Dennis and Dee only threw one party at their house in high school. When Frank found out, he threatened them with every possible punishment he could think of, up to and including bodily harm if they ever tried it again, so their first party was also their last.

Regardless, it was one of the best parties any of them had ever been to in their entire high school career.

The size of the twins’ house allowed for the entire school to be there, even the asshole jock crowd that somehow wormed their way in. Mac had scored a shit load of beer and weed from his dad, who at the time was encouraging Mac’s delinquency, hoping it would make him “more of a man”. It was enough alcohol and drugs that the entire house was completely wasted by midnight.

Dennis doesn’t think he’s ever achieved such a perfect combination of drunk and high since that night, no matter how hard he tried to replicate it over the years. He’d felt like he was floating through the house, all the rage, the ego, the pressure he felt on a daily basis drowned by the booze and the pot. The loud, overbearing sounds of the party thudded dully in his ears as though he had thick wads of cotton in them, and he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to not feel overstimulated as he usually did by the grating noise. He danced easily and unselfconsciously with Dee and Artemis, shotgunned pot with Mac and Charlie, won a few games of beer pong against Tim Murphy. He felt free and unburdened for the first time in his life.

He and Mac went outside around two A.M., snuck away from the noise and congestion and the shitty jock clique to properly enjoy their highs and stargaze. The were laying close enough together that their shoulders brushed when one of them would point something out in the sky. He could hear “Dancing Queen”, of all things, crooning from inside the house, but it was a little muffled and slow, as though his brain was processing the sound at half the speed. [It sounded weirdly hypnotic](http://hyruling.tumblr.com/post/182398382317/ptsunnyd-here-ya-go-3) to Dennis in the midst of his high.

“Can’t see jack out here with all the city lights,” Mac had lamented after awhile. “We should go out to the country, that’s where you can really see the stars, and the planets and moons and shit.”

Dennis snorted. “Yeah and who’s going to drive? We’re plastered.”  
  
“I didn’t mean tonight,” Mac answered. “I meant… you know, some other time.”  
  
Dennis rolled his neck towards Mac to look at him, head feeling pleasantly heavy. The world spun considerably as he moved, but he felt curiously steady and safe as he watched his best friend.

“You asking me on a date, Ronald?” he asked.

Mac giggled, which surprised Dennis. Mac usually couldn’t abide anything that remotely resembled a gay joke; he’d bluster and deny and yell if it was even implied. 

Dennis giggled too, and before they knew it they were both laughing uncontrollably, holding onto their stomachs and rolling onto their sides to face each other. Dennis breathed in Mac’s laughter, their faces close enough to touch.

Dennis calmed down first, and watched Mac serenely as he regained his breath. He’d grown out his beard when he turned seventeen a few months ago, and his face looked sharper, older. He was getting a lot more attention from girls lately, which Dennis attributed to the facial hair, but there was something else about him now that Dennis couldn’t place. He was more sure of himself, maybe; he carried himself with more confidence. Whatever it was, it was undoubtedly an attractive quality. 

Mac finally stopped laughing and licked his lips. Dennis stared at his mouth, thinking about how soft it looked; how it must feel good for the girls that Mac kissed, how lucky he was that he had such nice lips.

“What are you staring at, bro?” Mac asked quietly. His breath smelled like beer, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Have you ever thought about guys, Mac?” Dennis responded, words tumbling out of his mouth lazily. Mac’s eyebrows creased, but he was still smiling softly at Dennis.

“Thought about them? Like how?”

“You know how,” Dennis said, and Mac’s smile faded.

He waited for Mac to deny it, for him to get pissed at Dennis for even suggesting it, but he didn’t. His gaze flickered to Dennis’ mouth for just a second, and Dennis knew the answer.

“I don’t know,” Mac whispered after a minute, voice so soft Dennis could just barely hear him. “Maybe… maybe sometimes?”

Dennis just nodded. “Me too,” he agreed. The alcohol and the weed had quelled his inhibition; he wasn’t even embarrassed at the admission.

“That’s — that’s probably normal, right?” Mac asked, an edge of pleading in his tone. “Like, it’s probably normal for straight dudes to think about it sometimes, just to — to make sure they’re really straight. Or because — because God is testing them. Right?”

“Right,” Dennis had agreed, though he only said it to placate Mac. He didn’t believe it. His thoughts weren’t just occasional, drifting musings meant to assure himself of his sexuality. He didn’t think about boys just to reaffirm his attraction to girls. And he certainly didn’t think about them because God was testing him, wouldn’t give a shit even if he was.

But he couldn’t fault Mac for thinking that way, not really. The only reason he was being so honest with himself right now was because he was so fucking baked. It was weird. It was like there was another version of him telling himself all of this. Like he was outside of his body and was watching himself explain it when he knew that his subconscious wouldn’t put up any resistance to the idea. Jesus, he was so stoned. Nothing made sense, and yet at the same time he understood everything more clearly than ever.

Mac just stared at him as Dennis experienced his little epiphany. His expression was wrecked; Dennis could feel the want radiating from him, could see the hunger in his eyes. But he wasn’t as brave as Dennis, not even when he was loaded, so Dennis took matters into his own hands. He closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Mac’s mouth was just as soft as Dennis imagined. He was still as death against Dennis’ mouth, and didn’t kiss Dennis back for a long time. Just as Dennis was about to pull away, he felt Mac’s mouth move against his tentatively. Dennis leaned forward, kissed him harder, and it was as if a switch had flipped in Mac’s brain. He pushed until Dennis was lying on his back, continued to kiss him breathless as he moved over Dennis, stubble scraping Dennis’ chin. Dennis’ hands threaded through Mac’s hair. He shivered as one of Mac’s hands ran down his side, brushing the skin of his hip where his shirt had ridden up.

Mac ran his tongue along Dennis’ lower lip, and Dennis moaned, hands tightening in Mac’s hair. Mac pulled back suddenly at the sound, eyes wide. He and Dennis stared at each other, breathing heavily, frozen in place with Mac’s body covering Dennis’. He could feel Mac’s erection pressing against his leg and wondered if Mac had noticed his.

“I —“ Mac breathed as he hovered over Dennis, eyes huge and terrified. “Den, I —“

“It’s okay, Mac,” Dennis said. His heart was pounding, and every cell in his body was aching to pull Mac back down, itching to feel Mac’s skin on his again. He already felt different, knew that he was changed, that he’d never felt this way from kissing girls and probably never would. But he also knew Mac. Sometimes he thought he knew him better than he knew himself. He could tell Mac was about to stutter through some bullshit excuse, and he just couldn’t stand to listen to it right now, not after this.

So he gave Mac an out. “It’s okay,” he repeated, voice hushed. “This is normal too. Experimentation is normal.”

He felt something splinter all the way down to his bones as he watched relief flood Mac’s face.

“Right,” Mac muttered. He smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, uh, cool.”  
  
He pulled away, and a flash of silver shimmered in Dennis’ vision. The crucifix Mac wore around his neck swung around as Mac sat upright, taunting Dennis. 

The next morning, as Frank forced the gang to clean the entire house from top to bottom, Mac announced that he’d blacked out the night before, that he didn’t remember anything. He said it loudly and often as the gang rehashed the night. He glanced at Dennis surreptitiously each time, but Dennis was too hungover and hurt to fight it; he just pretended not to notice. _Message received, asshole_. He grit his teeth and cleaned up beer bottle after beer bottle, and maybe that night he hurled one or ten of them against his garage door, but it didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered, at least not according to Mac.

So he sleeps with women. Partially out of curiosity, partially out of expectation, but also out of spite. He wanted Mac to know how little he thought of that night, so he has sex with women and brags about it as often as he possible. He starts dating Maureen Ponderosa two weeks later, pretends to give a shit about her long enough that he actually starts to believe it’s true. He goes to college, and he doesn’t see Mac everyday, and he starts to forget about that night entirely. He develops the D.E.N.N.I.S. system, uses it to justify his lack of emotional involvement with any of the women he sleeps with. The system works, paints him as a god, and he fakes it for so long that it starts to become his truth. He sleeps with so many women that he begins to genuinely believe that he enjoys it, forgets his fleeting feelings from high school, forgets that night in the backyard under the stars. He’s straight, but his sex dreams are always exclusively about men. Sometimes they feature faceless men with hard, masculine bodies; sometimes it’s a face more familiar than his own, but it doesn’t matter. They’re just dreams, and they don’t mean anything. He sleeps with women, and he’s straight. The lies bleed into truth, weaving together so effortlessly that he forgets what’s real. He marries Maureen based on a false memory of his teenage feelings for her, while Mac sinks deeper into his own closet. He divorces Maureen when staying with her means cutting Mac out of his life, when he remembers he never cared about her at all. He sleeps with women. He’s straight, and high school was a lifetime ago, and he doesn’t think about Mac’s soft lips anymore. The memory fleets through his mind like a ghost, untouchable and unreachable deep in his subconscious.

 

*

 

Charlie doesn’t offer much in the way of advice. He just calls Dennis an idiot and supplies him with what seems to be all the alcohol in his apartment. By the time they head to Paddy’s, Dennis is so drunk he’s forgotten his own name. He only manages to make it inside by hanging off Charlie’s shoulders, both of them stumbling and wheezing with laughter at nothing in particular. 

Mac and Dee are behind the bar when they walk in, faces close together as they both grin at something on Mac’s phone. They look secretive and intimate standing like that, and Dennis feels a sharp twinge of jealousy. Mac only has inside jokes with _him_ , Dee has no business honing in on their friendship just because she can’t find a goddamn friend of her own.

Charlie and Dennis somehow make it to the barstools, and Mac and Dee finally look up at the commotion when they attempt to lift themselves onto the seats. Barstools are the worst invention, he thinks fuzzily. What moron decided that the best idea for a bar is a chair with no back or arm support, that you have to _climb_ into? Charlie falls after the first attempt, and Dennis cackles loudly before losing his footing himself and collapsing onto the floor next to him, nearly crying from laughing.

“Jesus Christ,” he hears Mac mutter under his breath. He can hear Mac’s feet clomping on the ground as he makes his way over to them. He’s wearing his ugly ass boots today, Dennis can tell just from the sound. He watches the hideous things as they move closer and closer, laughing harder when they duplicate, wondering why Mac would ever buy another pair of the disgusting things.

“Mac, your fashion sense is abys—abysmal,” he slurs, still snickering and hiccuping slightly. Mac’s feet are right next to Dennis’ head, and he’s still seeing four of them, and suddenly confusion clouds his amusement.

“Wait, wait, why do you have four feet, Mac?” he asks, and he turns his head up to see Mac looming over him. Or rather, he sees two Macs staring down at him, sporting twin annoyed expressions.

He laughs again, and Mac sighs and rolls his eyes before kneeling down and grabbing Dennis’ shoulders.

“Come on, get up,” he’s saying as he strains to lift Dennis’ dead weight. “Dee, come help me with Charlie.”

Dee glances over the bar at Charlie, who’s already passed out and snoring softly.

“Just leave him there, he’s fine.”  
  
“Dee, we open in ten minutes!” Mac argues, still struggling to lift Dennis into a sitting position. It’s November, and Dennis walked to Paddy’s without his jacket, and Mac’s hands are warm on his shoulders.

“It’s Monday, no one’s coming in here,” she answers, not looking up from her phone. Mac huffs irritably.

“Goddammit Dee, if Frank sees them like this he’ll send them home, and we’ll have to do all their work. Come help me.”

Dee looks up in alarm. “Well when you put it like that.”

She walks over and helps him lug Dennis off the floor. They’re both out of breath by the time they get him sitting upright and leaning against the bar. Dennis closes his eyes and listens as they argue over how to move Charlie. He hears Mac suggest dragging him, then a shuffle as he and Dee both grab one of his feet and pull him all the way to the back office.

He thinks he dozes off for a second, because the next thing he’s aware of is Mac’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently.

“Dennis, hey, you with me?” Dennis grunts in response, eyes flicking open groggily.

Mac is singular again; he’s no longer seeing double. Mac still looks annoyed, but there’s a note of concern etched in his expression too.

“Come on, we need to sober you up before Frank gets here, can you stand?”

He helps Dennis up, then eases him onto a stool, hands flitting all over Dennis’ body to steady him. He only lets go when he’s sure Dennis is stable and won’t fall off again.

“I’m gonna run to the Wawa and get you a sandwich,” he tells Dennis. “Dee, make sure he drinks some water.”

Dee only rolls her eyes in response, then bends down beneath the bar, reappearing with a bottle of water. She drops it on the counter in front of Dennis before picking up her phone again, entirely unconcerned.

Mac leaves, and the second he’s out of the door Dennis drops his head heavily on the bar.

“Doing great, superstar,” Dee mocks.

“Fuck you,” Dennis mumbles, and mentally implores the room to stop spinning.

“Drink your water, asshole,” Dee responds. She pokes him in the neck, and he sits up and swats her hand away.

“Jesus, hanging out with Mac has made you bossy as shit too,” he grumbles, uncapping the bottle and taking a long drink. “What were you laughing at when we got here anyway?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

He takes another swig of water as Dee answers. “Just some turkey that messaged him on Grindr.”  
  
Dennis chokes, nearly spits water all over Dee. She snorts as she watches him cough and sputter.

“He’s on Grindr?” Dennis gasps once he’s regained his breath.

“Yeah,” Dee says slowly, frowning at him. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Because — because Grindr is gross!” Dennis stammers. “It’s just horny dudes, raging with STDs, looking for a hookup!”

“Not exclusively,” Dee muses. “He’s talked to some pretty decent guys. I think he has a date with one of them on Friday.”  
  
A wave of nausea hammers Dennis suddenly, stomach churning violently. Dee must see it in his face, because she points to the bathroom frantically.  
  
“Don’t you dare puke in here, go!”

Dennis scrambles off the stool and stumbles to the bathroom as fast as he can. He just barely makes it into a stall before he’s vomiting, stomach clenching painfully, his entire body shaking. Sweat beads on his forehead. He pukes until he can’t any more, until he’s just dry heaving into the toilet.

He flushes, and rests his head against the stall, breathing fast. He shuts his eyes, trying to quiet the cacophony in his head, but visions of Mac with an amorphous stranger force their way into his head. This is it, this is will be the tipping point in their relationship. Mac is going to leave, he meant it when he told Dennis he was moving on. He’s going to abandon him, and not because Dennis pushed him away, but because someone else is going to lure him away. He’ll find someone better, and younger, and thinner, and funnier. He’ll find someone nice, someone that will take care of him, someone that will appreciate him and will give him the love and affection he’s craved his entire life. Someone that is the antithesis of Dennis.

His stomach rolls again, and he groans as he leans back over the toilet, but nothing happens. He just breathes harshly into the toilet bowl, grateful that he chose the nice bathroom amidst his distress.

He hears someone come in, and he’s torn between sobbing and hysterical laughter, because he knows who it is before they even say a word.

“Dennis?” Mac’s voice floats through the stall. Dennis pulls his head out of the toilet, leans back heavily against the side wall. “You okay? I have your water.”

Dennis chokes on a whimper, and Mac is pushing open the stall door. He falls to his knees when he sees the state Dennis is in.  
  
“Den? Hey, talk to me,” he’s saying, one hand hovering, unsure whether to land on Dennis’ shoulder or in his hair, the other gently pushing the bottle of water in Dennis’ hands. “You’re pale as shit. Drink this, come on.”  
  
Dennis forces down a few gulps, and then he’s convulsing, trying desperately to stop the sobs that are threatening to tear out of his chest.

“Dennis? You’re scaring me man, what’s wrong?” Mac is asking, eyes wide, hands coming to rest on either side of Dennis’ face, forcing him to focus on him.

Dennis shakes his head in Mac’s grasp, closes his eyes; fleeting images of that night under the stars resurface after twenty years of repression. He remembers the warmth, and the pull, and the way Mac’s hands felt on him, the way they feel on him now. How nothing has ever been right since then, how he’s always felt out of step and didn’t understand why. And he’s so drunk, and overwhelmed, and terrified, and he’s either going to crumble in Mac’s hands or explode in a frenzied rage and destroy everything in his path.

“Hey, look at me,” Mac says softly. He’s using the tone, the one he always uses when Dennis falls apart, the one that Dennis has come to rely on despite his reluctance to, his tether to reality when things spin out of his control.

He opens his eyes, and Mac is looking at him so carefully. Dennis’ hands are clenched into fists in Mac’s sleeves; he doesn’t even remember reaching for him. Then, because he’s drunk, and because it’s Mac, because there’s no one he feels safer with, he surrenders.

“I think — I think I’m gay.”

The ground doesn’t quake. The air doesn’t burn, the sky doesn’t fall. Mac and Dennis just breathe together, the words hanging thickly between them. Mac’s hands are still on Dennis’ face, holding him steady, grounding him.

Something flashes over Mac’s face, something that Dennis could pinpoint if he weren’t so drunk, and exposed. But then his expression smooths over, and he smiles, pulls Dennis into his arms.

Mac holds him tight against his chest. It’s the second time they’ve hugged in a week, more than they have in years, and Dennis’ heart clenches at the thought.

“It's okay,” Mac says quietly in his hair. Dennis grips Mac’s shirt tighter, trying to offset the way he’s splintering at the seams.  
  
They pull apart, and Mac is smiling, emanating radiance, drowning out the darkness still echoing in Dennis’ mind.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” Mac promises, pulling Dennis’ still clenched hands from his shirt. He holds his hands, thumbs rubbing gentle over Dennis’ fingers until they relax in his grip. He doesn’t let go, and he’s still smiling, and Dennis feels a rush of something he can’t name flood through him.

A moment later, a fresh wave of nausea surges through him. He retches, and Mac’s hands rub his back soothingly as he vomits. His world spins, and Mac is here, and the gaping hole inside him starts to piece itself back together.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this was messy. will dennis remember drunkenly coming out to his best friend in a toilet stall? stay tuned
> 
> ok honestly bold of me to try and make jokes when writing this chapter lowkey killed me. I love my messy gay dumbass son and I always end up writing what feels like 20k of just sad dennis angst don’t look at me. also how many times can I pepper in 'it's okay' allusions someone just take me out
> 
> anyway hi this chapter is early! I finished it sooner than expected and figured I’d go ahead and post today since we no longer have new episodes to feed us rip. next chapter will either be out this weekend or next wednesday!
> 
> and ik, I’m only like the thousandth sunny fic writer that has written macden kissing in high school and then immediately repressing it but I will die for this trope okay, is it really a macdennis fic without some high school pining??
> 
> a few other disclaimers:  
> a) I have never had cognac, all I know is that it is indeed alcohol and that it is expensive, and I’m still not sure if it’s supposed to be capitalized or not? thats about the extent of my research on it. its not even important and I forget why I bothered but now its too late, just laugh at my ignorance and move on  
> b) it occurred to me during editing that artemis didn’t go to high school with the gang? i think? but I kept it in anyway so thats canon now  
> c) don’t @ me for the dancing queen thing bfbfasfj, I happened to find it again as I was writing this and it fit the vibe
> 
> this is the longest a/n ever if you’re still here pls know I love you, thank you so much for reading and as always, come talk to me on tumblr @hyruling!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His hands fall heavily onto the counter and start to clench uncontrollably, and he claws fruitlessly at the empty space, fighting the oncoming panic attack. He leans forward, rests his head against the cabinet as waves of adrenaline leave him breathless. Jesus Christ, what was he thinking?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no significant content warning for this chapter, except for dennis being a bastard man.

Dennis is dying.

He’s sure his head is going to explode. His mouth feels like sandpaper and tastes like rancid onions, and his stomach is writhing and practically convulsing with hunger pangs. 

He’s never been this hungover. His eyes open slowly, and though his room is dark, the tiniest amount of sunlight is filtering through his curtains. He groans, pulling one of his pillows over his eyes. 

He peeks at his watch from under the pillow he’s trying to smother himself with: 3:47 P.M. He can’t remember the last time he slept this late.  

Slowly, he manages to clamber out of bed, wincing as his back twinges with pain. It feels like he injured it somehow, but he has barely any recollection of anything beyond drinking Charlie’s entire apartment yesterday. He vaguely remembers an incident with a barstool, but it’s hazy. 

He makes it to the bathroom and brushes his teeth vigorously, spits, and then brushes them again until the vile taste in his mouth is gone. He showers, fighting the nausea as he stands under the hot spray. By the time he’s dried off and dressed, he feels marginally better. 

Mac isn’t home. He’s probably at Paddy’s, considering they opened about twenty minutes ago. He’s sure there’s several angry texts from Frank about missing work waiting for him, but he doesn’t give a shit. He leaves it where it is, charging on his nightstand. He takes a minute to congratulate himself for having the foresight to plug it in in his drunken state.

He heads into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, and stops short when he reaches the table. There’s a bottle of aspirin, and a glass of water waiting for him. 

It’s not like it’s unusual for Mac to do something thoughtful and borderline overbearing like this, but it is odd considering the stalemate they’ve been stuck in for the last week. His head throbs sharply and he takes two without thinking too hard about it. 

Something prickles uncomfortably in the back of his head and spreads throughout his body, burrowing under his skin. He’s trying to remember something significant, but it’s so foggy. It’s like trying to hold water in cupped hands; the thoughts trickle through the cracks faster than he can hold onto them. 

It happens while he’s waiting for coffee to brew. He’s peering through the cabinet looking for a clean mug, when the bottom suddenly drops out of his stomach. Ice floods through him and settles in his chest.

He told Mac he was gay last night. 

His hands fall heavily onto the counter and start to clench uncontrollably, and he claws fruitlessly at the empty space, fighting the oncoming panic attack. He leans forward, rests his head against the cabinet as waves of adrenaline leave him breathless. Jesus Christ, what was he  _thinking_? 

It comes back to him slowly. Falling off the stool, laughing on the floor with Charlie. Mac’s hands on his shoulders. Vomiting, violently, over and over. Mac’s hands on his face, on his back, around his shoulders as he held him. He concentrates, tries to remember anything beyond his confession on the bathroom floor, of all fucking places. The panic intensifies when he realizes he doesn’t know if Mac told the gang, if _he_ told them himself. He only has flashes of Mac helping him up the stairs to their apartment, setting a trash can next to his bed. Then, nothing.

Before he has time to catch his breath or dwell on it any longer, he hears the front door creak open. Mac walks in, footsteps heavy in the silence. Dennis briefly considers sticking his hand in the garbage disposal as a distraction, anything to avoid talking about last night.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Mac greets him. Dennis doesn’t turn around, just presses his head more firmly against the cabinet, trying to fuse with the wood and disappear. 

“You alright?” 

His voice is so gentle, and Dennis’ hackles raise. He knows anger is an absurd, inappropriate response to Mac’s kindness, but he can’t stop himself. All his walls came crashing down last night, and anger is the only defense mechanism he has left. 

“I’m fine,” Dennis says shortly, finally pulling his head away from the cabinet and turning his attention back to the coffee pot.  

“Okay,” Mac says slowly behind him. Dennis pours a cup of coffee, jaw clenched painfully, as Mac continues. “Well, you should eat something. I got you a burger. I know that probably sounds really gross right now but it’s the best thing for a hangover, something about the protein and fat soaking up the alcohol I think. Did you take some aspirin?” 

“Yes, Mac, I’m not a child,” Dennis grits out, twisting around to face him. “I know how to handle a hangover.”

Mac’s face falls slightly, and Dennis wants to take it back, but he doesn’t. He just sips his coffee and watches as Mac sits and pulls a burger out of the bag. 

Dennis makes a face as Mac lays it on the table in the seat opposite him. He can smell it through the foil, and his stomach protests furiously. 

“Just eat it,” Mac says, gesturing for Dennis to sit. He does, but he doesn’t touch the food. He drinks his coffee slowly, clenches the mug tight as Mac watches him. “I promise it helps.” 

Dennis rolls his eyes. Mac doesn’t back off though. He crosses his arms and watches Dennis drink his coffee obstinately. 

They sit in silence for a few long minutes. Dennis slowly drains his cup, and Mac flickers between stubbornly watching him and looking at his phone. His thumbs move over the screen like he’s texting.  _Probably his trashy Grindr date_ , Dennis thinks spitefully, then swallows hard as he forces that idea far in the back of his mind. Not the time.

“Don’t you need to be at work?” Dennis finally asks irritably. His skin is still prickling, and his hands are clenching uncontrollably around the empty mug. 

“I could ask you the same,” Mac retorts. He sighs, softening his tone as he continues. “Frank is probably so pissed at us.”

“What did you tell him?” Dennis asks hesitantly. 

Mac shrugs. “That you had a bad stomach bug, and that I needed to stay here to make sure you stayed hydrated and didn’t die. I think he knew it was bullshit though, Charlie was just as wasted as you, I’m sure he told Frank what happened.” 

Dennis’ chest feels tight. He’d rather cut off his own foot than willingly have this conversation, but he has to know.

“Did you... did you tell anyone?” 

Mac looks confused. “Well no, just Frank. I mean, I’m sure he bitched about it to Charlie and Dee —“

“No,” Dennis interrupts, running a hand down his face. “No, I mean, did you tell them...?”

“Oh, no, no dude of course not,” Mac assures him once he understands. Something passes over his face quicker than Dennis can name it. “No, it’s— you only told me.” 

Dennis releases a shaky breath, feels his chest loosen slightly. 

“Are you — I mean, do you want to tell them?“

“No,” Dennis bites out harshly. “No, it’s none of their business.” 

“Alright,” Mac agrees. He’s looking at Dennis like he’s a fragile, injured animal. His agitation flares again; he needs to end this. 

“Look Mac, I was drunk as shit last night, okay. I was out of my mind, I shouldn’t have said anything. Can we just — just forget it?” 

Mac frowns. “Yeah, I mean... if you want to, dude, but — did you mean it?”

Dennis considers. He could lie. Mac lied to him, he thinks maliciously. Mac started this whole thing twenty years ago, it’s would be poetic justice, an eye for an eye. And it would be so easy. The words would slip out of his mouth smooth and easy, well practiced after so many years of bullshit. But then he thinks about saying those words. The same ones that he’s forced himself to choke out his entire life. He thinks about how liberating it was to finally say it, to feel the first thing resembling peace in years, and knows he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Yes,” he admits after a long pause.

He half expects Mac to be smug, but he’s not. He just nods, face so understanding and open. Dennis coughs and stares into his coffee cup, suddenly self conscious.

“I’m happy for you,” Mac tells him quietly after it becomes clear Dennis isn’t going to elaborate.  

“Don’t,” he warns, snapping his head back up. Mac furrows his brows, surprised. “Don’t start that.” 

“Why not?”

“Just don’t, okay? I don’t need you to be happy for me, or proud of me, just because you’re the only gay friend I have and it’s your job to say that shit.”

Hurt flashes across Mac’s face, but he stands firm. “That’s not why I said it. It’s true.”

“I don’t care. I don’t need to hear it, okay? I don’t need to be coddled. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine, this is just— just something I need to —“

He stops, words catching in his throat. He doesn’t want to do this. He’s overwhelmed enough as is, he doesn’t want to revisit ancient history, not today. But Mac either doesn’t catch his warning signs or doesn’t care, and keeps pushing. 

“It is kind of a big deal, Dennis,” Mac argues stubbornly, and the prickling under his skin deepens. “I mean, how long have you known?”

Dennis huffs, hysteria bubbling in his throat. “Did you really just ask me that?”

Mac gapes, confused. He’s racking his brain, trying to figure out what Dennis means, and that sends Dennis over the edge. 

“Don’t act like you don’t remember. Not again.” he snaps. 

“Remember what, Dennis?” Mac asks, perplexed. 

“Our party,” he snarls. Mac shakes his head, still confused. “Me and Dee! The party at our house? Junior year?”

Recognition dawns on Mac’s face, confusion melting into shame. He squirms, clearly embarrassed, and Dennis drinks in his discomfort. 

“Dennis, I —“

“Don’t bother Mac, seriously. It hasn’t bothered you for twenty years, why would it now?” He’s lashing out, the way he always does when he’s backed in a corner. “You didn’t give a shit then, why should you now?

“Dennis I didn’t know!” Mac cries. “Really, I — I didn’t know it was so important to you! I thought we were just like, messing around, that it didn’t mean anything!”

“If you thought that, then why did you pretend you didn’t remember?”

Mac’s chest is heaving, breath matching Dennis’ now. He can see a blush spreading on his cheeks. 

“I thought— you said—“ he stammers, looking at his hands, then back at Dennis wildly. 

“What, Mac?”

“You said that it was just normal experimentation, or whatever, that it wasn’t— I just assumed you wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen!”

“And  _you_  were so happy when I gave you that excuse, so obviously relieved —“ 

“Yeah, cause I was ridiculously deep in denial! Jesus, do you really think I would have stopped otherwise?” 

“You —“ Dennis stops, brain short circuiting. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, _Jesus_ , how does Mac always manage to drag him into these kinds of conversations? 

“Did I — did that really make you —?” Mac chokes out after a minute, sounding as if he’s on the verge of tears. Dennis feels an uncomfortable twinge of guilt but says nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” Mac continues hastily, and he sounds so genuinely remorseful it sobers Dennis a little. He feels the anger slowly ebb away. “I had no idea that I was the reason you— god, Dennis that’s so long,” he breaks off, voice cracking. “That’s a long time to feel — like that.”

He would know, Dennis thinks. And it’s then that he realizes with a jolt just how long the both of them have spent in this limbo, how long they both suffered, hiding from themselves, suffocating in the lies. Mac has a tormented look on his face, and Dennis breaks.  

“It wasn’t just because of you,” Dennis admits softly. “That night was… eye opening, but you weren’t the only reason I never, you know,” he trails off. 

Mac nods, but only looks slightly mollified. He’s frowning, and avoiding Dennis’ eyes. Dennis can’t stand watching his distress now, despite reveling in it only minutes ago.  

“Seriously, Mac, don’t beat yourself up. It was a long time ago, I had plenty of time to get over it. It’s not your fault it took me forty years to come out, okay?” 

Mac looks up, jaw clenched. He watches Dennis searchingly before replying. Dennis shifts, uncomfortable, but doesn’t break eye contact, trying to communicate sincerity in his expression. Eventually Mac huffs out a shivery breath. 

“Okay,” Mac says at last.

“Good,” Dennis sighs. He reaches for the burger on the table and takes a bite. It’s cold, but he forces himself to chew, and Mac smiles as he swallows and takes a second bite. 

Mac watches him in companionable silence as Dennis eats, and cleans up once he’s done. Dennis is annoyed to discover he was right about it settling his stomach. 

“So —” Mac starts as he comes to sit back down, and Dennis holds up a hand. 

“No, that’s — that’s about as much as I can handle today,” Dennis says. “I just want things to go back to normal, okay? Can we just — let’s just watch a movie.” 

Mac lights up at the suggestion. “Sure, whatever you say man.”

They watch Thundergun Express, and it feels exactly like it always has. They eat popcorn, and comment on the same scenes that they always have. They get just as excited as always when they get to the dong shot. The prickling under his skin subsides and Dennis breathes, feeling calm with Mac laughing loudly beside him. 

 

*

 

Days pass, and things go back to normal. Mac is still bossy as shit, and loud, and annoying, and eventually the rest of the gang stops walking on eggshells around him. They’re all still nicer than usual; no one goes out of their way to exclude or insult Mac, but they stop treating him like he’s a fragile bird. They go back to scheming and fighting with each other daily, and Dennis breathes easier as life returns to normal. 

Mac doesn’t bring it up. He seems fine with letting Dennis take the lead on how to deal with coming out, which is to not talk about it. They have more movie nights, and make plans for monthly dinner, and the familiarity of it all soothes Dennis' tattered nerves.  

They’re all at Paddy’s on Friday afternoon when Mac’s Grindr date cancels on him. Dennis watches Mac carefully as he whines about the cancellation to the gang. He’s a little moody, but doesn’t seem devastated. Frank and Charlie lose interest after awhile and fuck off to the back office. Dee engages with Mac, commiserates with him while Dennis drinks and pretends to be disappointed on Mac’s behalf. Then within an hour, before Dennis can properly celebrate the fact that Mac isn’t ditching him tonight, he’s already made plans for Saturday with someone else. 

Dennis grinds his teeth and nurses his beer as he listens to Mac gush about this new guy, Mark. He shows Dennis and Dee some pictures from his account, and Dennis snorts before he can help himself. 

“He pasty as shit,” Dennis comments. “He looks like soggy white bread.”

Mac frowns at the screen. Dee snickers from next to him and says, “You’re one to talk Dennis. You’re basically translucent.”

“It’s winter! I haven’t had a chance to get a base, you bitch.”

“It’s just the lighting anyway,” Mac says, still examining his phone closely. “I mean he’s not as hot as Jason, but his other pictures aren’t as bad, look.”

He shoves the phone in Dennis’ face, and he’s forced to look at a shirtless mirror selfie. The dude has abs, and nice hair and smooth skin. Dennis’ stomach squirms; he is kind of hot.

But instead of admitting that, he purses his lips and says tersely, “He’s fine.” He pushes the phone out of his face. “But his name…”

“What’s wrong with his name?” Dee asks. 

“Mark? Mark and Mac? Come on, that’s ridiculous,” Dennis explains, laughing shortly. “It’s one letter away from being the same name for Christ’s sake.”

Mac is still frowning, seems to be genuinely concerned about this revelation. Dennis can see him turning it over in his mind, and he has a brief moment where he thinks he’s won when Dee laughs sharply.

“Who cares, Dennis?” she asks, and Dennis glares at her. “It’s not like they’re getting married. And it’s kind of cute anyway.”

Mac brightens. “Yeah dude! That would actually make for some really sweet wedding invitations, they’d like rhyme and shit.”

“Charlie could write a poem,” Dee adds. 

“They don’t goddamn  _rhyme_ ,” Dennis says scathingly. 

“Close enough,” Mac argues. 

Dennis rolls his eyes, then stands and walks around the bar to get another beer. He pushes Mac out of the way and picks one out, then sways into Mac’s personal space to grab the bottle opener behind him. He hears Mac’s sharp intake of breath as Dennis’ arm brushes his hip. He doesn’t move once the bottle is open. He takes a long swig, grins when Mac watches him swallow. 

“Alright, let’s see more of this beefcake then,” Dennis says, leaning against Mac to look at his phone. His face is very close to Mac’s, chin nearly resting on his shoulder. He lets his other hand rest on Mac’s lower back as he tilts into him. He hears Mac swallow, can tell he’s looking at him, and Dennis works to keep his face neutral as he reaches for Mac’s phone. Mac lets him take it. 

“Huh, he describes himself as ‘muscular’, that’s rich,” Dennis says, laughing quietly. He scrolls through the guys profile for another minute while Mac stays stock still next to him. Dennis leans more heavily into him as he points out something on his profile that Mac doesn’t respond to, letting the hand on Mac’s back trail up lightly as he talks. Eventually Dennis closes the app and hands Mac his phone, fingers brushing his briefly. He pulls away from Mac and leans his back against the bar to face him. 

“Well, it’ll be an interesting date for sure,” he says breezily, and winks. Mac’s mouth is parted slightly and he looks like he just had the wind knocked out of him. God, it was so easy to wind him up it almost wasn’t even fun. 

“Yeah,” Mac manages weakly, then clears his throat. “I’m gonna hit the head.”

He maneuvers his way past Dennis and nearly sprints to the bathroom. Dennis smirks to himself, but his victory is short lived because Dee speaks up behind him as soon as Mac is out of earshot. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Dennis turns to face her. She’s looking at him like he just punched a puppy in the face. 

“What?” he retorts defensively. 

“Are you kidding me? Dennis, you need to get a grip.”

“Get a grip? On what?”

“ _That_!” Dee emphasizes, gesturing to where Mac was just standing and lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. “Why are you trying to ruin his date?”

“Ruin?” Dennis scoffs. “How am I ruining anything?”

“Oh my god, stop repeating everything I say and playing dumb or I’m going to lose my shit,” Dee replies, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “I was sitting right here, you know. You were all over him barely ten minutes after he started talking about his date, that’s not a coincidence.”

“‘All over him’? Dee, I looked at his phone!” Dennis says incredulously, laughing as though Dee was ridiculous for suggesting it. 

“Dennis, you know exactly what you’re doing,” Dee says darkly, and that gives Dennis pause. 

“Wait… did Charlie tell you?” he asks, heart rate picking up. 

“Tell me what?” Dee responds mildly, though he can tell she knows what he’s referring to. 

“That Mac —“ 

He stops abruptly, because Mac comes out of the bathroom at that moment. But before he makes it back to his place behind the bar, Charlie pokes his head out of the office. 

“Uh Mac, could you come in here for a second?” Charlie calls, voice extra high and nervous. 

“Why?” Mac asks. Franks pushes his way past Charlie, face tense, and heads over to where Dennis and Dee are arguing.

“Because I — I want to tell you something,” Charlie says, not making eye contact. “A — a secret. Just come here please.”

Mac glances at Dennis and Dee questioningly. They shrug back at him. Mac sighs and heads into the back office and Charlie slams the door behind him. Only then does Frank finally speak. 

“We got a problem,” he says without preamble. “The hit on Luther is going down tonight.”

“What?” Dennis hisses furiously. Dee swears under her breath across from him. “I thought you sorted that out!”

“So did I!” Frank cries, looking behind him nervously. “But I guess this guy already had it out for him, says he’s doing it anyway. He just called, said he ain’t gonna kill him but he’s definitely at least breaking a leg, money or not.”

“Goddammit Frank,” Dennis snarls. His hands are clenched into fists. “Mac is Luther’s first of kin, they’re gonna call him when it happens, and he won’t be able to stay away. He’ll be back where he started!” 

“I know, that’s why you need to steal his phone! Intercept the call, pretend to be Mac.”

“How?” Dee asks incredulously. “He’s glued to his phone, he never puts it down.”

“Then distract him!” Frank says. “We don’t have time to argue, just figure something out.”

Dee looks at Dennis, face tight. “You have to do it.”

“What?” Dennis asks, looking between Frank and Dee. They’re both nodding. 

“You need to distract him! You can do that better than anyone. Flirt with him, pick a fight, anything it doesn’t matter. Just long enough that we can steal his phone.” 

Dennis sputters, trying to think of a way out of it, but Frank glances at the office and then back to him anxiously. 

“You have to, Dennis. Charlie won’t be able to stall him forever.”

“Alright,” Dennis acquiesces. He licks his lips nervously, hands wringing on his beer bottle, trying to come up with a plan. “I’ll get it from him. But you need to fuck off for a little while, leave us alone.”

“Fine. Deandra, come with me.” He and Dee leave without another word, heading towards the back alley. They just barely make it out of the door before Mac emerges from the office, looking puzzled. He heads behind the bar towards Dennis. Charlie pokes his head out, and Dennis shoots him a look over Mac’s shoulder that he must understand because he disappears again. 

Mac opens a beer, and drains half of it right away. Dennis clears his throat.

“What did Charlie want?”

Mac shakes his head, takes another long drink. 

“You don’t wanna know, dude.”

Dennis laughs humorlessly, and stares at his hands for a minute, trying to seem casual, like what he says next is spontaneous and wasn’t planned meticulously in the last sixty seconds. 

“Hey, why don’t we go to Guigino’s tonight?” he suggests. He curses internally; he sounded just a little too laid back to be believable. Luckily Mac doesn’t seem to notice, but he still furrows his eyebrows a little.

“But our monthly dinner isn’t until next week.” 

“Yeah, I know, we can push it up,” Dennis says. 

“But… then our routine will be off,” Mac protests. “You like to stay on schedule.”

Dennis hesitates, momentarily touched. He  _does_  like to stay on schedule, and right now he’s relying on his routine heavily to maintain his sanity after all the recent change in his life.

“It’s fine,” Dennis assures. “You got stood up, let me make up for it.” 

“I didn’t get stood up,” Mac argues petulantly. “He cancelled  _before_  we were supposed to go out, that’s different.”

“Not really,” Dennis replies, disagreeing on pure instinct. 

“Yeah, it is. If I had shown up and he didn’t,  _then_  I would have been stood up.” Dennis catches Dee peeking through the back door out of the corner of his eye. She points to her wrist emphatically. He forces himself not to react as Mac keeps arguing his point. 

“— at  _least_  three hours notice, so he didn’t stand me up,” Mac is saying when Dennis tunes back in. 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Dennis says dismissively. Mac looks like he’s going to argue again, and Dennis decides to pull out the big guns.

“Look just…” he sidles closer to Mac. Mac’s mouth snaps shut as Dennis leans into his personal space again. “Go to dinner with me?” Dennis finishes smoothly. 

It works instantly. Mac’s expression softens, and Dennis feels a momentary pang of guilt. Dee is right, he shouldn’t do this manipulative shit anymore now that Mac is actively trying to get over him. But this is a desperate situation, he has no choice. 

“Okay,” Mac says weakly. Dennis smiles brilliantly.

“Okay,” Dennis repeats. “Let’s leave our phones here. So we can just, you know, talk. Without the distraction.”  

Mac nods enthusiastically. “Sure, yeah good idea.” 

He holds his hand out, and Mac hands Dennis his phone without hesitation.  

“I’ll leave them in the office.”

Dennis strides to the back, forcing himself to walk at a normal pace. The moment he’s in the office he thrusts Mac’s phone into Charlie’s hands. 

“Give that to Frank,” Dennis instructs hastily, struggling to hide his own phone in his sock so Mac won’t notice. “Mac’s passcode is 0414.”

“How do you know that?” Charlie asks. 

Dennis waves his hands dismissively, some kind of garbled shushing noise coming out of his mouth. He turns on his heel and slams the door before Charlie can question him anymore. 

“Come on, let’s go before the others come back,” he tells Mac. 

They leave, and Dennis makes a point to rush as if they’re skipping work, adding some excitement to the situation to avoid suspicion. They climb into the Range Rover and speed away, laughing conspiratorially together. 

 

 

 

Everything goes smoothly until dinner. 

They go home first to change, and Dennis decides that Mac’s one “fancy” grey shirt looks even more ridiculous with his new body. The muscles in his arms are bulging so much they’re practically ripping the fabric. It’s borderline obscene. 

“You really don’t have  _any_  other button ups?” Dennis asks as Mac struggles with his clip on tie. They’re in the bathroom together, and Dennis is carefully applying his foundation. “With real sleeves? Or at least short sleeves that fit?”

Mac examines himself closely, pulls at one of his sleeves. “What’s wrong with this? It fits fine.”

“It does not,” Dennis disagrees. Mac swears as he fails yet again to get his tie on correctly. Dennis puts down his foundation blender with a sigh and stands between Mac and the bathroom mirror. “Give me that.”

Mac hands over the tie, and Dennis fixes the top button of his shirt before dexterously attaching the clip. He smooths his hands over the tie, then over Mac’s collar, once, then again to be thorough. Mac’s shoulders are so firm, Dennis thinks as his hands move. He can feel the hard ridges in his muscles even through his shirt. He wonders how long it took Mac to bulk up like this; he never thought to ask when he got back.

His hands are still grazing his collar lightly when Mac coughs, the sound breaking into his train of thought. Dennis looks up, startled when he realizes how close he is to Mac’s face. 

He sniffs and drops his hands, then shifts back to his spot next to Mac. He grabs his mascara, and diligently avoids looking at Mac. 

“Dennis,” Mac says quietly. 

Warily, Dennis meets Mac’s eyes in the mirror. 

“You didn’t finish your foundation.”

Dennis looks down at the mascara wand in his hand, then back at his reflection. Mac is right; he still has unblended foundation dotted on his forehead. 

“Right,” is all Dennis says as he picks the blender back up. Mac smiles at him tightly in the mirror, then leaves the bathroom. Some of the tension in Dennis’ shoulders releases once he’s alone. 

He rests both hands on the edge of the sink and takes a deep breath. He does need to get a goddamn grip. Apart from the situation with Luther, which is admittedly unsettling as he has no control over the situation, there’s reason to be anxious around Mac. And yet for some reason tonight he finds the idea of sitting down to dinner with him, alone, with no distractions, extremely disconcerting. 

It’s just Mac. They’ve had hundreds of monthly dinners at Guigino’s, this is no different.  _It’s just Mac_. 

He shuts the bathroom door, then leans down to retrieve his phone from it’s hiding spot in his sock. It’s annoying as hell keeping it there, but Mac will definitely notice it if he carries it in his pocket. 

“ _Update???_ ” he sends to the group text with Frank, Dee, and Charlie. He goes into his settings and disables all sounds, including vibrations.

He sets his phone on the bathroom counter and finishes applying his foundation as he waits. It lights up a few minutes later with a response from Frank. 

“ _Nothing yet. Too early. Keep Mac occupied._ ”

“Shit,” Dennis mutters. He struggles to tuck the phone back in his sock, then finishes his makeup. 

Mac is bent over tying his shoes when Dennis enters the living room, and Dennis can’t help his sharp intake of breath when he sees him. The goddamn shirt is so tight that he can see every muscle ripple in Mac’s back as his arms move. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, and clears his throat when he hears how strangled his voice is. 

Mac straightens and grins. “Yeah, got your coat?”

Dennis moves to retrieve it from the chair they use as a makeshift coat rack, but Mac beats him to it and holds it open for Dennis to ease his arms into. 

 Dennis stares at Mac with his arms outstretched for a tense moment. He swallows hard and he feels his cheeks warm, suddenly understanding why he’s so jittery. Because this feels like a goddamn date. 

Mac is still holding his coat open, oblivious, while Dennis tries to ignore the way his fight or flight response is triggering. He reaches out and snatches his coat from Mac’s hands, turning away to avoid looking at him as he struggles to put it on with shaking hands. Mac puts on his own coat, unperturbed by Dennis’ crassness. 

They make it to Guigino’s, Dennis struggling to appear relaxed the entire way over. He’s making every effort to thwart the date atmosphere surrounding everything Mac says and does, but it’s like he can’t help it. Mac opens the door for Dennis, and helps him take off his coat, and even pulls out his chair. Dennis wants to scream, but he keeps his mouth resolutely shut, not wanting to draw attention to it. They drink wine, and make small talk about the gang, and their apartment, and the groceries Mac needs to get at the store, and it’s all so goddamn  _domestic_. Dennis is losing his mind. 

“You alright dude?” Mac finally asks him halfway through appetizers. “You seem kinda agitated.”

“I’m not agitated,” Dennis says shortly, perfectly aware of exactly how agitated he sounds. 

“You sure? I mean, do you wanna talk about… you know…” Mac trails off, picking at his food nervously. 

“No, Mac, I want to keep talking about your  _thrilling_  saga of trying to find lettuce at Klein’s,” Dennis snaps sarcastically. “That’s  _so_  much more fascinating than my big gay crisis.” 

Mac frowns at him. “Wait do — _do_ you want to talk about it, because now I can’t tell —”

“No, goddammit,” Dennis interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No just… finish your story about the lettuce.”

Mac doesn’t answer. He just stares at Dennis as he takes a large sip of wine. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Mac repeats. “You’ve been weird all night, starting with pushing up monthly dinner, which you never do, and you’ve been pissy ever since we left the apartment.” 

“I haven’t been _pissy_. Nothing is wrong. It’s fine, let’s just talk about the weather, or about sports, or —“

“See, right there,” Mac says, pointing at Dennis accusingly. “Why are you being such a bitch about what we talk about?” 

“It’s not what we talk about, Mac, it’s everything about how you’ve been acting tonight,” Dennis hisses before he can stop himself. Mac scoffs, about to interrupt again, before Dennis cuts him off. “No, seriously Mac, nothing about this seems weird to you tonight?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Holding my coat open, opening the door for me, pulling out my chair, making the reservation under ‘The Reynolds’…” Dennis lists, holding up a finger with each point he makes. “None of that is weird to you?” 

Mac is looking at him like he’s speaking Chinese. 

“Dude… I do that at  _every_  monthly dinner.” 

Dennis gapes, struggling to make his voice work.

“You — no, no way Mac —“ 

“Yes I do!” Mac insists angrily. “Every time! You’ve never said anything before, is that seriously why you’re pissed?” 

Dennis thinks back to all their previous monthly dinners, and feels a pit form in his stomach when he realizes Mac is right. He’s not doing anything out of the ordinary; in fact compared to some previous dinners he’s been relatively restrained tonight. He recalls one in particular when Mac referred to Dennis as his partner about six times, poured his wine for him, and even ordered for him. The only difference tonight is Dennis’ awareness of the situation. 

He stands abruptly, napkin falling to floor. 

“Dennis —” Mac starts, still sounding huffy. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Dennis announces before stumbling away from the table and dashing to the men’s room. 

He staggers into a stall and sits on the toilet seat, not pausing to consider the hygiene. He forces himself to breathe deeply for a few minutes; he absolutely refuses to have another breakdown in a goddamn toilet stall. He needs a distraction, right now. He pulls his phone from it’s hiding place in his sock and sees several texts from the rest of the gang. 

“ _hit went down, need to talk_ ” from Frank.

“ _I just left your apartment, where are u???_ ” from Dee. 

Then just several skull emojis from Charlie. His heart stops, and he dials Frank immediately. 

“Dennis!” 

“Frank, what’s going on? Is Luther  _dead_?” Dennis asks tensely. 

“Dead? No, no he ain’t dead.” 

Dennis breathes out a shaky breath. 

“Then what’s with the skull emojis from Charlie?” he questions. 

“Well Charlie was being a bit dramatic, but uh, it’s not great news.”

“What?” Dennis grits out. 

“Well, my guy did what he said, Luther got himself a good kneecapping.” Dennis feels a vindictive little thrill shoot through him. “But he kinda… mentioned my name, and there’s a  _chance_  Luther’s put two and two together and is pissed. As in, locked in isolation pissed.”

Dennis’ blood runs cold. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dennis hisses. “This is exactly why I was against this idea, goddammit Frank!” 

“Hey, look on the bright side, he can’t do anything about it from isolation!” 

“They’re not going to keep him there forever!” Dennis points out, voice rising hysterically. “He’s going to get out eventually, and then Mac’s going to find out, or  _worse_ , he’ll find a way to hurt Mac.” 

He’s verging on hyperventilating. He forces his head between his knees, pressing the phone so hard to his ear that it hurts. 

“Calm down Dennis, no one mentioned Mac’s name, alright? And unless Mac tries to visit him, which he won’t, he won’t find out either.” 

“What if Luther calls him? Or writes him a letter? Did you think about that, genius?” 

“Well you’ve been interfering with that for years, just keep doing your thing! _Or_ , we’ll just tell Mac what happened so he can be on the lookout. I’m sure he’ll understand —”

“No,” Dennis snarls. “No, Frank, you made this mess, you fix it. There’s no way I could intercept everything, and we’re  _not_  bringing Mac into this, ever. Understand?” 

“Alright alright cool it, I’ll figure it out.” 

He hangs up, and Dennis punches the toilet paper dispenser before he can stop himself. He’s so angry he barely even registers the pain.

He stays there for another few minutes, trying to calm down. Frank is so goddamn _stupid_ , and Dennis isn’t sure any of them can keep this from Mac for long. He’s going to find out, and he’ll be furious. And Dennis can’t say why he knows this, but this will be the final straw. Mac will leave. He won’t listen to reason, or to their good intentions, he’ll take off just like Dennis did. But unlike Dennis, Mac will be able to stay away. He’ll be able to build a life away from the gang, away from Dennis, and he won’t come back.  

He hits the dispenser again to stop this hypothetical and unhelpful stream of consciousness. He doesn’t have room for this Luther bullshit right now, he has other things to worry about. Like the fact that he’s apparently been going on a date with Mac once a month for more than ten years and had no idea.

He clambers out of the stall and washes his hands, swearing when he sees that his knuckles are already starting to bruise. He’ll have to figure out how to hide that from Mac.

When he gets back to the table, Mac is glaring at his plate, pointedly ignoring Dennis.

“You were gone a long time,” he says curtly when Dennis sits down.

“I’m not feeling well,” Dennis lies. He keeps his left hand hidden on his lap, though it means he can’t cut his meat.

“You’re not feeling well,” Mac repeats dryly. “So that had nothing to do with avoiding our conversation?”  
  
“There’s nothing to avoid, Mac. I’m not feeling well,” he maintains, tone matching Mac’s.

“Jesus Christ,” Mac mutters under his breath. He drops it though, and returns to his food with laser-like focus.

They eat in silence. Dennis finishes all the food that he’s able to eat one handed. Mac looks up when Dennis puts down his fork.

“Why aren’t you eating your steak?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You ate everything else —“

“Jesus, Mac, you gonna climb out of my ass any time soon?” Dennis snaps, hands flying up near his face in frustration. He quickly lowers them again as Mac’s face turns stormy.

“Fuck this,” Mac says simply, shaking his head and standing.

“Where are you going?” Dennis asks sharply.

“I’m leaving.” He throws his napkin on the table. “I don’t know what your deal is tonight but I’m done, I’m going home.”

Dennis grabs his arm as he passes, “Mac, stop.”

Surprisingly, he listens. He pauses, stares down at Dennis exasperatedly. Dennis doesn’t let go of his wrist.

“I’m sorry, okay. Sit down. Please.”

Mac looks at him for a long moment. Dennis holds his gaze, and finally Mac sighs loudly and returns to his seat.

They finish dinner. Mac doesn’t push it, but Dennis can tell he’s still upset. They limit conversation to Guigino’s itself; the food, other guests, their annoying waiter. Dennis pays the check, and it doesn’t even occur to him until they’re walking outside that their waiter hadn’t even asked if they wanted to split it.

They drive back to Paddy’s to pickup Mac’s phone, Dennis’ skin crawling with apprehension the entire way. At least at Guigino’s they had the distraction of the restaurant to ease the tension. Dennis plays music, but it sounds grating and harsh and just makes his anxiety worse.

“Dennis?” Mac says hesitantly when they’re almost to Paddy’s.  
  
Dennis turns down the music and mutters a quiet, “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” Mac says, and Dennis turns to look at him, surprised. Mac is staring at his lap. He elaborates as Dennis turns his attention back to the road.

“I get it now. Why you were freaked out tonight.”  
  
Dennis looks over at him again for a moment, and this time Mac is looking back at him. He must look confused, because Mac keeps talking.

“Because of what I told you, the day after — after the prison,” Mac explains, sounding embarrassed. Dennis bites his lip and says nothing. “I keep doing shit like this without realizing, and it’s making you uncomfortable. So I’m sorry… again.”

Dennis bites his lip and nods, throat tight. He’s more guilty than Mac; he’s purposely used Mac’s feelings for him to manipulate him. He should apologize too, but his voice isn’t working. He just keeps driving, lets the conversation die in the heavy air between them. 

Dennis practically runs to the bar when they finally arrive, eager for the chaos and bustle of the gang to save him. However when he tries to pull open the door he realizes it’s locked.

He shakes it uselessly a few times as Mac comes to stand next to him.

“It’s locked?” Mac asks. “It’s only eleven.”  
  
“Guess they closed early,” Dennis says offhandedly.

“I wonder why?” Mac wonders. Dennis says nothing, knowing exactly why the gang was engaged elsewhere tonight.

Dennis struggles to get his key in the lock, and that’s when Mac finally notices his hand.

“What happened?” he asks, grabbing Dennis’ hand to examine it under the dim light from the streetlamp.

“It’s fine,” Dennis says dismissively. He waits for Mac to question him, but he doesn’t. He runs his thumb over Dennis’ knuckles softly, and Dennis gasps quietly.

“Sorry,” Mac mutters, but he still doesn’t drop Dennis’ hand.

Dennis could pull away. He should, considering the one sided conversation they just had not five minutes earlier, which Mac seems to have already forgotten. But he doesn’t. He looks up at Mac, admiring the way the streetlight softens his features. His hair has come loose and falls over his forehead delicately, eyelashes dark and fanning over his cheekbones as he looks at Dennis’ bruised hand. He looks down at their joined hands, then back at Mac’s face, and still doesn’t pull his hand away, or stop himself from swaying into Mac’s space for the third time that night.  
  
And then it hits him, suddenly and shockingly like a bolt of lightning. Why he’s been so agitated, why he hasn’t resisted Mac touching him, why he panicked at Guigino’s tonight, and why he’s been unable to stop thinking about Mac dating someone else.

He has a crush on Mac.

 _God. Dammit_.

 

*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pour one out for my man dennis who thinks that being deeply in love with your best friend for twenty years equals having a crush on them. 
> 
> ok ngl I really struggled with this chapter, and i've been editing for like 3 hours straight and my eyes are burning so apologies for any mistakes this may have because I needed to just stop staring at it and post it. I'm not super thrilled with how some of this turned out but i hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I'm hoping to have chapter 5 out by next week but with it being the holidays things are getting busy so it might be a little longer. come yell at me on tumblr if it's not out by next weekend @hyruling. or just come say hi :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, game plan. First step: make sure Mac never finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: very very brief suicidal ideation.

It’s Saturday morning and Dennis has decided he’s not leaving his bed today. Maybe not ever. He’s sure no one will even miss him.

After managing to successfully retrieve Mac’s phone and make it seem as though his had also been in the office the whole time, the rest of the night had been one of the most awkward of his life. The only thing that saved him was the fact that all the discomfort seemed to be one-sided. 

They stayed at Paddy’s for awhile, drinking beer as Mac caught up with all his missed messages. Dennis was thankful Mac had his phone to distract him, because he was losing his mind just being in the same room as him. He couldn’t stop shooting furtive looks at Mac, and looking away immediately any time Mac made eye contact with him. He wondered if Mac could tell how he felt, sure that it was written all over his face. As soon as Mac had swallowed the last drop of his beer, Dennis announced he was tired and that they should leave. He locked himself in his room the moment they got home and hasn’t emerged since. 

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to come up with a game plan. Ordinarily, realizing you were crushing on someone who has already admitted to being in love with you would be a positive thing. Any other person would be thrilled, would be excitedly planning to make their move, but Dennis’ situation is entirely different. 

For one, he lives with Mac. And though he does his best to convince Mac and everyone else that it’s just out of convenience, that he doesn’t enjoy it, he doesn’t want that to change. Living with Mac and being his best friend is a constant in his life, something he depends on, as natural to him as breathing. It’s not worth jeopardizing that just because he suddenly wants to bend him over their kitchen table. Or better yet, have Mac bend  _him_  over the table. 

That’s the objective argument against making a move on Mac. More importantly, and painfully, he can admit: Mac doesn’t want him. Not really. Sure, he said he’s in love with him, but he also said he wants to get over him. And Dennis can’t blame him. He knows that as flawed as Mac is, he also loves fiercely and unconditionally, and Dennis doesn’t deserve someone like Mac. He doesn’t think he could ever care about him in the selfless and unreserved way Mac cares about him.

There’s another, slightly more embarrassing reason he can’t act on his feelings. Dennis felt a familiar urge to run last night, the same one that led to him leaving Philadelphia last year after Mac started to make it clear how he felt about him. Fear dominated his emotions last night, eclipsing everything else. He’s never felt this way towards anyone, all his past relationships being fleeting, insincere shams. Not only that, he knows what would happen if he let himself act on his feelings towards Mac. He’d fuck it up eventually. It’s not a guess, it’s an indisputable eventuality. He’d fuck it up, and destroy everything he and Mac had, and be left with nothing. 

So, game plan. First step: make sure Mac never finds out. 

And he already knows how to accomplish step one. 

 

 

“Mac, what should I put for my body type on Grindr?” 

It’s hours later. Dennis has finally emerged from his bedroom after formulating his plan all day. Mac is in the bathroom, primping before his date, something Dennis is forcing himself not to think about at the moment.

He’s looking at his phone as he talks, but he hears Mac’s brush clatter onto the counter. 

“Your — uhhh?“ Mac chokes out. 

“Grindr,” Dennis supplies. He looks up to see Mac gaping at him, looking absurd with his hair half gelled, half loose. He lets his gaze trail down to see that Mac is only wearing his RIOT tank and boxers, miles of tan, smooth skin exposed. 

He forces his gaze back to Mac’s face, cursing himself internally. It’s been five goddamn minutes and he’s already foiling his own plan. 

“Your Grindr,” Mac repeats, voice hoarse. 

“Yeah. You use it, I figured I should try it,” Dennis says, controlling his expression carefully. “I mean, if  _you_  can get a date on it, should be a cake walk for me.” 

Mac nods, face tight. He doesn’t even rise to the bait; Dennis watches as roughly ten expressions pass over his face in quick succession. Jesus his hair is ridiculous looking. It’s distracting. Dennis is torn between making fun of him and reaching out to muss up the gelled half. 

“Toned,” Mac answers shortly after a minute, bringing Dennis’ attention back to the conversation. Mac turns back to the mirror and slicks his hand with gel, running his hand through a section and brushing it back a little more roughly than seems strictly necessary. 

“I don’t know,” Dennis muses, and Mac stops mid brush, rolls his eyes slowly over to Dennis. He’s beginning to look irritated; Dennis resists the urge to smirk. “I was thinking ’slim’. ‘Toned’ might be a little dishonest.”

Mac huffs; he’s definitely annoyed now. 

“You’re toned, bro. Just put that.” 

“Okay, if you say so. Also, what do you think —“ 

“Dennis,” Mac interrupts, closing his eyes. “I have to get ready.” 

“Right, of course, sorry. Your date with Mark,” he says, drawing out the “k”. 

Mac looks at him again, frowning. There’s still an entire section of his hair that’s not gelled down. The impulse to reach out and fix it is getting harder to ignore. 

“What are you going to wear?” Dennis asks. 

Mac shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess what I usually wear to Guigino’s.” 

Dennis sighs. “Mac you can’t be serious.”

“What? That’s my good outfit, dude.”

“You have got to expand your wardrobe if you’re gonna be serious about dating,” Dennis explains. “What happens if he asks you out again? Are you just going to wear the same outfit for every date?” 

Mac furrows his eyebrows, considering. “I didn’t think about that,” he says quietly. 

Dennis nods, turning his attention back to the profile he’s still creating. “Well, good thing you have me.” 

“Well I have to wear it tonight, I don’t have anything else,” Mac says. Dennis can hear the pout in his voice.

“You wanna try some of my stuff?” 

Mac laughs, and Dennis looks up from his phone. Mac is smiling softly at him, and Dennis’ heart skitters. _Fuck_. 

“You’re joking, right?”

It’s Dennis’ turn to frown. “I’m completely serious, Mac. My fashion sense is impeccable.” 

“Dude, none of your shit will fit me, no offense.”

“No _offense_? And why would I be offended?” 

“Well because you’re like —“ Mac gestures vaguely up and down Dennis’ body, “— thin, you know? You haven’t built mass, like me.” 

It’s Dennis’ turn to roll his eyes. “You  _just_  said I was toned, Mac. I have muscle.”

“Yeah but like…skinny toned. It’s not a bad thing! But your clothes just won’t work dude.” 

“Well neither will yours, if you’re hoping to get laid,” Dennis retorts, ignoring the way his stomach curls at the idea. “I’m just trying to help.” 

Mac looks at his hands as Dennis goes back to his phone and feigns disinterest. He watches Mac out of the corner of his eye, barely paying attention to what he’s putting on his profile. Mac fiddles with his brush, then sighs heavily. 

“Okay. What should I wear?” he asks, and Dennis smiles. 

“First things first. Wash that out of your hair,” Dennis instructs, gesturing to Mac’s hair with his phone still in one hand. 

“What? Why?” 

Dennis exhales, deciding in that moment to give in to what he’s been itching to do since he inserted himself into this situation. He pockets his phone and steps forward, hands reaching for Mac. 

Mac gasps sharply and goes still as Dennis’ hands thread through his hair. He massages gently, slowly loosening Mac’s hair from the gel’s hold. Mac is silent, staring at Dennis with his mouth parted. Dennis feels a blush rise on his cheeks, but he doesn’t back away. His hands continue to move through Mac’s hair, slowly breaking up the stiff sections until his hair is smooth and soft again. He keeps his focus on what he’s doing, refuses to meet Mac’s eyes; he’s not sure he’ll be able to control himself if he does. 

He keeps his hands in Mac’s hair for a few moments after he’s finished, letting himself indulge in the feeling while he can. It’s oddly familiar. His stomach lurches when he realizes why; he has a flash of his hands in Mac’s hair as they kissed in high school, the feeling resurfacing from deep in his memory. 

His hands drop suddenly, and his gaze falls back to Mac’s. Mac’s eyes are glazed over, pupils blown. He’s not even bothering to conceal the obvious want in them.

Dennis swallows hard and looks away.  _Get your shit together_ , he thinks furiously. Ogling Mac and running his hands through his hair was decidedly _not_ part of the plan.

“See?” Dennis says, rubbing his neck and gesturing for Mac to look in the mirror. 

Mac closes his eyes tightly for just a second, quick enough that Dennis would have missed it if he wasn’t watching him like a hawk. He takes a breath and looks at himself in the mirror, head tilting slightly as he looks at his reflection. 

“I don’t know Den, I kind of like the other way,” he says. 

“Trust me Mac, this looks better.” 

“But —“ 

“Do you want to get laid or not man?” Dennis asks, irritated. “We need to pick an outfit, we’re running out of time.” 

“Alright, fine,” Mac sighs. He fiddles with a few loose strands of hair before huffing again and following Dennis out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. 

Dennis rifles through his button downs for a few minutes, trying to find the biggest one he has. They’re all relatively loose on him these days, but he’ll still need to find something large if he’s going to have any hope of fitting Mac’s arms into it. 

He pulls out a few options that could work. When he turns back around, he sees that Mac has flopped down on his bed, idly scrolling through his phone, newly messy hair falling into his face. Dennis’ heart leaps to his throat. He’s taken aback by how affected he is by the image of Mac lounging in a t-shirt and boxers in Dennis’ bed. Like it’s nothing, like belongs there. Unbidden, other images of Mac in his bed filter into his mind, images featuring him wearing significantly less clothing. He shakes his head roughly.  _Focus_.

“Off my bed asshole,” he manages after he’s cleared his head. 

“But your bed is so comfortable,” Mac whines, nestling in even further. “Why did you get the nice mattress when you moved back?”

“Because I won it, remember?” Dennis answers, smoothly glossing over the mention of his departure. 

“That was not a fair contest, bro. I think we need to revisit the matter in arbitration.” 

Dennis snorts, and finds himself sitting down on the bed next to Mac, hardly aware that he’d even moved. Mac is laying back on his pillows, and Dennis settles near his head, one leg tucked under him, knee brushing Mac’s bicep. 

“Sure, we can do that. But you’ve never won a single arbitration, Mac. It would be a waste of time.” 

“I won the lotto ticket one!” Mac argues. “And I could win again if I got Dee on my side.”

Dennis laughs and says, “Dee would never be on your side. She’d never betray me.”

“Maybe in the old days, bro, but things have changed. I could totally get her to side with me.” 

Mac is smiling; he means it as a joke, but Dennis shifts uncomfortably, chest constricting because Mac is right. A lot of shit changed when he left, and every time he’s reminded of that a fresh wave of regret washes over him. 

Mac must notice, because his smile fades. 

“Dennis —“ 

“Try these on,” Dennis interrupts, tossing the shirts he’d picked out onto Mac’s chest. Mac doesn’t move, or stop looking at Dennis. Dennis picks up his phone to avoid Mac’s concerned gaze. He feels Mac’s eyes boring into him, but he firmly ignores it, scrolling through his half finished Grindr profile. With a sigh, Mac finally pushes himself off the bed to try the shirts on. 

Dennis refuses to watch as Mac pulls his RIOT shirt over his head; he’s been treated to Mac’s shirtless body far too many times lately as is. He listens as Mac struggles, grunting and swearing as he tries to pull the shirt on.

Then he hears what he probably should have expected to hear the moment he suggested the idea: the sound of ripping fabric. 

“ _Mac_!” he growls, whirling around and rushing over to where Mac is standing by his full length mirror. The sleeves have ripped near the shoulders; Mac is standing with his arms out awkwardly, looking sheepish. 

“I told you bro!” Mac cries as Dennis runs his hands over the ripped fabric. “These aren’t going to fit.”

“Mac you goddamn animal,” Dennis grumbles. “This is ruined!”

“I bet Charlie could fix it,” Mac says. 

“You’re buying me another one if he can’t.”

“This was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you should have realized it was going to rip and _stopped_ like a normal goddamn person —“

“Don’t blame me, I was fine with wearing my own shit!”

“‘Your own shit’ is atrocious, excuse me for trying to do you a favor —“

They’re interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. Mac’s eyes widen.

“Shit,  _shit_  what time is it?” he breathes, grabbing Dennis’ wrist and checking his watch. “ _Fuck_ , he’s early.” 

“That’s Mark?” Dennis asks as Mac struggles to take off Dennis’ shirt. Dennis watches as he hops around uselessly, arms trapped, before taking pity and grabbing his shoulders. “Hold still, let me.” 

Dennis eases Mac’s arms out of the sleeves one at a time. He’s left staring at Mac wearing nothing but his boxers; he makes a mental note to put a curse on whoever in the universe is responsible for his life, because fuck them.  

“What do I do?” Mac hisses once he’s free, pacing around the room, gathering his phone from Dennis’ bed. “I’m not ready Dennis.” 

“I know, just go put on your own clothes. I’ll stall him,” Dennis says, already walking towards the front door. 

“No,” Mac says behind him, and Dennis turns. Mac looks like a trapped animal, expression wild and terrified. “I mean, I’m not  _ready_. I don’t think I can do this. Yeah I’m — I’m gonna bail.”

“ _What_?” Dennis says, taking a few steps towards Mac, who looks like he’s seconds away from bolting out of the window and down the fire escape. “Mac, come on, it’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

“Yeah, but not with a guy,” Mac argues. 

“Bullshit, what about all those nights at The Rainbow? You’re not still pretending those didn’t happen?” 

“No,” Mac says, fidgeting. “But that was just — just like hooking up, it wasn’t  _dating_.” 

Dennis’ stomach twists as he imagines Mac with strangers at The Rainbow, but he shoves it down deep. Mark knocks again, and Mac drops his head in his hands. 

“Mac, look, if you really want to bail that’s fine,” Dennis says, stepping forward and pulling Mac’s hands from his face. He drops Mac’s hands once he’s looking at him again. “But I think you’re overthinking it, dude. It’ll be fine, you’ll have fun.” 

He and Mac look at each other, Dennis doing his best to look encouraging despite every one of his instincts screaming to let Mac sabotage this date for him. Slowly Mac’s dread seems to wane, and he nods.  

“Okay, I’m gonna do it,” he says, and something in Dennis cracks.

“Good,” he says tightly. “Go get dressed.” 

Mac nods again and leaves, and Dennis takes a moment to just breathe quietly, trying and failing to let his mind go blank. He’s brought back to earth when he hears knocking for the third time. 

With a loud sigh he walks to the front door and pulls it open. He’s met by a tall, slender man with light brown hair and dark eyes. He’s dressed in tight jeans, a black tucked in t-shirt and grey blazer. He’s even hotter in person than he was from pictures, and Dennis immediately hates him. 

He frowns at Dennis. “Uh, sorry, I’m looking for someone named Mac?” 

“He’s here, he’s still getting ready,” Dennis says, barely hiding the animosity in his voice. “I’m his roommate.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know he had a roommate,” Mark says amiably. “I’m Mark.” 

He holds out his hand, and Dennis just looks at it for a moment, dragging out the moment to make it as uncomfortable as possible before shaking it. 

“Dennis,” he returns shortly. He doesn’t invite him inside, and they linger in the doorway awkwardly for a long minute. Dennis drinks it in, watches him squirm with vindictive pleasure. 

“So,” Mark says after the silence becomes unbearable. “How long have you known Mac?” 

“Twenty-seven years,” Dennis answers without hesitation. Marks eyebrows shoot nearly to his hairline; Dennis just smiles mildly at him. 

“Wow that’s — a long time,” Mark says. “And you’ve lived together that —?”

“No,” Dennis says, and Mark nods, looking a little more assured. “We’ve only lived together for twenty.” 

“ _Only_  twenty,” Mark mutters, mostly to himself. “Right.” He shuffles awkwardly in the doorway, looking over his shoulder like he’s trying to figure out the fastest way out.

Dennis frowns, suddenly realizing what he’s doing purely on instinct. He’s scaring Mark away, which goes directly against his plan. He shakes his head and sighs. 

“But look man, we’ve never — I mean it’s purely platonic, alright. No need for you to stress.” 

Mark smiles nervously. “Okay, good to know. I was going to be really disappointed if I had to call this off.”

Dennis forces himself to smile, trying not to look pained. “Yeah, well…” he trails off. 

It’s quiet for another few moments before Mac finally emerges, wearing his rumpled grey shirt. He’s at least had the foresight to tuck it into his nicest jeans, and he’s left his hair loose. Dennis swallows hard, looking away as Mac lights up when he sees Mark. 

He’s distantly aware of them exchanging pleasantries, but his ears are ringing so loud that he doesn’t make out anything specific. He hears himself make some excuse before stumbling to his room as quickly as he can, unable to stand watching them leave together. As soon as he hears the front door click shut, he throws himself on his bed facedown and screams into the pillow as loudly as he can. 

 

 

 

An hour is all it takes for Dennis to go insane.

He thought this part would be easy. He thought once Mac was out on his date he could just pretend it wasn’t happening, could go about his normal business as usual. Out of sight, out of mind. But he’s losing it. All he can think about is how the date is going; whether it’s going well, whether it’s going to end with Mac staying the night at Mark’s. He wonders if Mac is being obnoxious, if he’s spending the entire date talking about karate, or religion, or any of the other topics that he tends to rant about. Or if he’s making Mark laugh, if he’s being charming, the way he’s able to be on very rare occasions. 

About two hours into the night, all of which he’s spent restlessly tidying up the apartment and failing to distract himself with TV, he finally gives up and heads to Paddy’s. He speeds, eager for any kind of distraction from the bitter thrum of jealousy spreading through his veins. His tires screech as he peels into his parking spot outside the entrance.

“Evening gentlemen, Dee,” he greets as he saunters inside, inserting an excessive amount of false bravado in his voice. The bar is mostly empty; a few booths are occupied by their regulars but otherwise it’s a ghost town. “What’s on the agenda tonight? What are we getting into?” He claps his hands and rubs them together frantically as he finishes. 

He’s met with three matching bored expressions. They’re each nursing their drinks, barely reacting to Dennis’ exuberant entrance. Dee is behind the bar with Frank and Charlie sat across from her. 

“Where have you been?” Frank asks gruffly, completely ignoring his question. “You and Mac have been skipping too many shifts, keep it up and it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

“Consider it recompense for all the stress you’ve caused me with this Luther bullshit,” Dennis retorts.

“What’s Mac’s excuse?” Charlie asks.

“He’s banging that beefcake Mark, ayooo!” Dee crows. The ringing in Dennis’ ears gets louder, and a fresh wave of anger swells in his ribs. 

“They’re not banging, it’s the first date,” Dennis says tersely, irritation seeping into his voice.  

“I don’t know, sounds like it’s going pretty good,” Dee says, brandishing her phone emphatically. A message pops up on her screen, and Dennis can just make out Mac’s name.

“Wait, is he texting you?” Dennis asks incredulously. He reaches for the phone but Dee twists and holds it out of reach. She shrugs when he backs away, not looking up as she types out a response. “He’s texting  _you_  about his date. While he’s still on it.”

“Yeah?” she says. “And?”

“That son of a bitch, after everything — you know what, no.” He takes two deep breaths, forcibly suppressing his outrage and reverting to his earlier plan of pretending Mac doesn’t exist. He ignores the weird looks the others are giving him. “Frank, update; did you fix the situation with Luther?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. He’ll make a full recovery and I paid him off to keep his mouth shut.” He motions to Dee as he answers Dennis, who hands him another beer and tosses his old bottle in the trash.

“And you’re  _sure_  he won’t tell Mac?” Dennis pushes. 

“Yeah, the piece of shit wants nothing to do with him anyway. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Good,” Dennis says on an exhale. “Alright now that that’s over, what do we have going on tonight?”

No one answers. Frank rubs at his eyes, Dee is still on her phone, and Charlie is slowly peeling the label off his beer. 

“Nothing?” Dennis says, desperation creeping into his voice. “Come on, guys — Charlie? What’s up with The Waitress dude, any new boyfriends you need to stalk?”

Charlie flinches but shakes his head. “Nah she’s just up to the same old, haven’t really been checking on her to be honest.”

“Uh, okay, Dee? Sweet Dee? What’s up with you, who are you exacting revenge on this week? I want in.” 

Dee gives him a withering look. “I’m not always ‘exacting revenge’, Dennis, I’m a very nice, reasonable person you know. Way nicer than you.” 

Dennis waves her off; no time to get into that right now. “Frank? Any new scams you need help running? Wolf Cola need some work done?” 

“No, nothing new. Been pretty preoccupied with this Luther business.” 

“Jesus, really? What’s wrong with you?” Dennis cries, bordering on hysterical. “Have you all gone soft? We’re  _young_ , you know, we should be out there! Scheming, scamming money from suckers — tearing it up!”

“‘Tearing it up’?” Charlie repeats, snickering. “Who says that?” 

“Lots of — it’s a saying, Charlie!” 

“Dennis, we’re forty. And it’s been a long week,” Charlie argues, taking a sip of his beer. “We’re tired bro, just drink a beer with us.” 

“No, this is — I won’t accept this, goddammit, I won’t just let us lay down and — and _die_ like this!” he exclaims. His voice is getting louder, approaching what Dee has dubbed his ‘golden god asshole’ voice, something he still takes issue with. It’s just his passionate speaking voice, the one he uses when he needs to rustle up action, the one that inspires the unexceptional into doing his bidding. “Come on, let’s — what’s in the news today? What can we protest, or — or how can we stick it to the  _man_  —“

“Okay, enough Dennis, come on,” Dee says, walking around to grab Dennis by the arm. Before he can argue she pulls him into the back office and shuts the door behind him. 

“I feel like I’ve already said this to you, but obviously it didn’t take the first time,” Dee starts, cutting off Dennis’ indignant rant before he can even start. “Dennis, you need to _get a fucking grip._ ”

“I — Dee I don’t know what you’re —“

“‘Stick it to the man’? What are you, a teenager in an eighties movie?” Dee interrupts, completely steamrolling over Dennis’ incoherent stuttering. “Look, Mac told me you were acting weird as shit tonight, and he may be too dumb to get it, but I do.”

“Seriously, since  _when_  do you two text every goddam minute of the day, Christ,” he deflects weakly. 

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Dee you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, pacing in front of the desk and avoiding eye contact. 

“I think I do, actually. I know you pretty well Dennis.” She stares at him as he paces, arms crossed defiantly. 

“Do you? Well you just disproved your own statement, because there is nothing  _wrong_  with me.” 

“Cut the shit, Dennis. You’re jealous that Mac is dating someone else.”

All the air deflates out of him. He stops pacing abruptly; he’s so jarred that he doesn’t try to control his facial expression. Dee looks smug as fuck. He quickly schools his features back to indifference.  

“I’m not — don’t be ridiculous, Dee,” he stutters, blushing furiously and effectively ruining his aloof illusion.

“Oh sorry, you’re right, I guess I misconstrued things,” Dee says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Like when you puked the other day when you found out he was on Grindr —“

“I was drunk!”

“— or when you tried to make him stop talking about Mark by dry humping him in the middle of the bar —“ she continues relentlessly.

“ _Dry humping_?” he squawks, voice pitched so high it could rival Charlie. “Dee —“ 

“— or just now when you basically  _begged_  us to distract you from thinking about him on a date.”

“I didn’t  _beg_ , you bitch, I’m just — just concerned about where we’re heading as a group here,” he explains, gesticulating wildly. 

“Right, my mistake,” Dee says, so smug he’s surprised her big head can fit in this room. Dennis glares at her, refusing to bend. 

She puts up with it for a minute before sighing loudly and rolling her eyes so hard it looks like it hurts. 

“Dennis, will you please just admit it so I can help you?” 

“Help —? Why the hell would you want to help me?  _Not_  that there’s anything I need help with.“

“Because the sooner you get over this, the less annoying you’ll be. And the less annoying  _Mac_  will be, he’s driving me crazy talking about you all the time.”

Dennis inhales sharply, trying and failing not to imagine what Mac’s conversations about him are like. 

“I — I’m not jealous, okay,” Dennis lies. Dee is about to argue when he says, “But! I will admit… that Mac dating has made me...uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable.” Dee echoes. “What like, he’s banging them in the living room or something?”

Dennis grimaces at the sudden mental images. “No, not that. They’re just — he could — he could do better, you know? He’s really scraping at the bottom of the barrel.”

“Better like you?” Dee says, smirking. She’s really testing his rule not to choke his own sister. 

“ _No_ , just... I don’t know, better! Better than the trailer trash he’s picking up on Grindr.” 

“Right, so... you’re jealous,” Dee concludes matter of factly, pressing forward and ignoring Dennis’ angry splutter. “Just make a move already Dennis, we all know he’s obsessed with you. It’ll be easy.”

“ _Jesus Christ Dee,_ Idon’t _want_ to make a move,have you not been listening?”

“Yes, Dennis, I’ve been listening. To the same bullshit you’ve been spouting for years. And I’ve been watching you and Mac since high school. You’re the most dysfunctional and  _delusional_  assholes in the universe, but you clearly wanna bang. You have for a long time.” 

Dennis doesn’t respond. Dee has made up her mind, and it’s not like she’s entirely wrong. 

“Fine, think what you want,” he concedes, running a hand down his face. “I don’t want to make a move though, I meant that. It’ll just... fuck everything up,” Dennis finishes, coughing to hide the vulnerability in his voice. 

“How? Dennis, it won’t change anything in your relationship with him, except that you’ll both be getting laid more.” 

“You don’t get it Dee,” Dennis says. “You don’t know the whole — it’s complicated, okay?”

“It’s really not,” she says flatly. 

“Yes, it is,” he insists. 

Dee doesn’t argue anymore. She just watches him, her expression uncharacteristically compassionate. She seems to struggle with something for a minute, pressing her lips together and glancing at the floor and then back at Dennis. 

“Dennis, I want to —“ 

“Dee, please,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “I have it under control, I just want to… I just want to not think about it for awhile, okay?”

She must be able to read the desperation in his face, or hear it in his voice, because she doesn’t push it. She just nods. Dennis inclines his head towards her, then walks towards the door to leave when suddenly Dee is throwing her arms around him. 

He freezes as Dee squeezes tighter. He can smell her perfume, the same one she’s worn since high school, and he finds it immeasurably comforting. 

“I can hear you overthinking this, just hug me back, Jesus Christ.”

He huffs out a laugh before he can help himself, and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks quietly. 

“Because you need it, asshole,” she replies just as quietly. 

Dennis doesn’t answer. He drops his facade for a minute and just lets himself be hugged, loses himself in the feeling of being comforted by someone who knows him to his core. 

Dee pulls away, and Dennis senses she wants to say something more, but before he can prod she pats his shoulder and leaves the office without another word. 

Dee must have said something to the rest of the gang, because when he returns to the bar a few minutes later they are all exceptionally more energetic. Frank suggests they play a drinking game, which Charlie then escalates to  _inventing_  a new drinking game, and the rest of the night descends into chaos.  

 

*

 

Dennis finally goes home around two AM, full of trepidation of what he will find when he walks in the door. If Mark and Mac are making out on the couch the way he’s been picturing all night he may just stick his head in the oven and be done with it.

Mac is on the couch when he walks in, but he’s alone. He’s drinking a beer in the dark, and there are five empty bottles littered around him. Dennis flips on the light, and Mac barely even looks up.

“Mac?” he asks. “Are you… drinking a six pack alone? In the dark?”

“Obviously,” Mac responds, voice harsher than Dennis expected. 

Dennis walks over slowly, picks up the empty bottles on the couch. He sits down next to Mac, who is staring straight ahead, face drawn.

“So… I guess the date didn’t go so well?” Dennis guesses, trying to sound sympathetic.

Mac laughs dully. “What tipped you off?”

He still won’t look at Dennis.

“What happened? Dee said it was going well.”  
  
Mac leans his head back and closes his eyes, clearly pissed. “She wasn’t supposed to be telling you guys anything, goddammit Dee.”

Dennis waits, sensing Mac is building up to what he wants to say. He lowers his head again and takes a long swig of beer, sighing deeply after he swallows.

“I don’t — I don’t know how to do this,” Mac admits, voice hushed. “It was a goddamn disaster dude, it was so awkward, and I didn’t know what questions to ask, or what to talk about. And I definitely talked way too much about the gang and scared the shit out of him.” He puts the now empty bottle down and his head falls into his hands. “And I really liked him, and he’s never gonna call me again. I just — I’m so bad at this, dude. I don’t think I’m cut out for relationships.” 

His voice is so dejected, and Dennis’ heart clenches. He feels a confusing mix of pity and glee, the two emotions wrestling for dominance in his chest. On one hand, he’s selfishly rejoicing that Mac’s date failed, because now he can get the vile taste of jealousy out of his mouth. On the other hand he hates seeing Mac like this, defeated and unsure. Mac is supposed to be brazen and energetic and passionate, not this insecure husk of a man that’s sitting next to him.

“Look Mac, maybe it was just awkward because it was a Grindr date, you know?” Mac lifts his head and looks at Dennis, a note of hope in his expression. Dennis latches onto it and keeps talking. “That shit is always awkward, you know, it’s not genuine. You have to force conversation, it’s not the same as like… connecting with someone in person.”

Mac nods quickly, eyes darting around as he considers Dennis’ words.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says.

“Definitely, man,” Dennis says encouragingly. “Don’t give up on a relationship because of one bad date.”

Mac smiles slightly and Dennis returns it. He pats Mac’s knee, and lets his hand linger for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“You’ll be alright,” he continues. “Maybe start hitting The Rainbow again?”

“Yeah,” Mac says, nodding to himself, then more enthusiastically as an idea occurs to him. “Yeah, maybe you could go with me?”

“What?” Dennis asks, removing his hand from Mac’s knee abruptly. His heart rate triples.

“Yeah!” Mac says, and he looks like his normal self again, smiling brightly as he elaborates on his idea. He’s speaking quickly, like his mouth can’t keep up with his thoughts. “You need to get out there too, right? And I said I’d help you figure it out, we should go!”

“I — I don’t think —“ Dennis stutters, panicking.

“Dude, please? I need a wing man. We can help each other. You can help me with the dating part, I can help you with the casual hookup part, if you want.”  
  
“I don’t need help with that, Mac, I’ve done that for years,” Dennis says, voice only slightly strained.

“Yeah, with chicks,” Mac responds sardonically. “It’s totally different with dudes.”

Dennis scoffs, looking around the room wildly like it’ll give him an answer.

“Come on, you know it’s a good idea!”

“Do I?” Dennis counters. “I mean you… you know, will you be able to handle seeing me —?”

He can’t say it, but thankfully Mac gets it. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice softening. “It’ll be good for me, I think.”

Mac fiddles with a rip in his jeans nervously, looking like he doesn’t believe a word he just said.

Fuck. So much for that.

He doesn’t know how else to get out of it without admitting _he_ won’t be okay watching and actively helping Mac pick up guys. Mac is looking at him pleadingly, eyes wide and hopeful, and he cracks.

“Okay,” he says, immediately regretting it.

Mac grins, luminous with excitement, and his smile lights Dennis up from the inside.

“Great,” Mac says, standing and running his hands over his jeans excitedly. “I’ll go buy some glitter tomorrow.”  
  
“Some — _what?”_

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make Mac And Dennis Friends Again (MMADFA)
> 
> god they are the dumbest people alive, god bless.
> 
> I can't wait to write the next chapter friends. I'm not thrilled with this one again, but it was necessary to get to the Good Shit
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr @hyruling!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis thinks, not for the first time, that this is possibly the worst idea they’ve ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: very brief and minor instance of self-harm, use of a homophobic slur (by a gay character if that helps), dennis and mac being assholes.

The week flies by, and before he knows it it’s Saturday and Dennis is getting ready with Mac. In their bathroom. _Again_.  
  
He’s tried everything to get out of tonight. All week he complained relentlessly about how tired he was, which predictably went right over Mac’s head. He even tried to have another heart to heart with him, only half lying when he told Mac he wasn’t ready for this kind of thing. But as Dennis’ self appointed gay guru, Mac wasn’t having any of that either. He gave a big speech about Dennis needing to embrace his sexuality, and that the best way to do that was to surround himself with other gay people, and wouldn’t listen to any of Dennis’ protests.

He’s so desperate that he even tried to pretend his foot was hurting him again this morning. Mac freaked out, just as Dennis knew he would, rambling about toxins and infection as he forced Dennis onto the couch to let him examine it. Dennis sat with his foot in Mac’s lap, so distracted by the feel of Mac’s hands on his skin that he forgot to pretend to wince when Mac applied pressure to his now fully healed wound. Mac beamed, declared that his foot was fine and it was probably just phantom pain he was feeling. They then spent forty-five minutes arguing over whether a person could experience phantom pain without losing a limb, and even that didn’t deter Mac from going ahead with his stupid plan.

So here he is. He’s applying his foundation, wondering how he ended up here and trying not to watch as Mac spreads glitter across his bare torso.

“You sure you don’t want to put any on?” he asks Dennis. “It’s going to end up all over you anyway, you might as well lean into it dude.”  
  
“It’s _not_ going to end up all over me,” Dennis retorts, keeping his eyes firmly on his own face in the mirror.

Mac snorts. “Alright, think what you want. Is that what you’re going to wear?”  
  
Dennis looks down at his jeans and blue button up. “Yes, why?”

“No way dude,” Mac says, and Dennis finally looks at him in the mirror. He’s shimmering with glitter, and Dennis is reminded horribly of the pasty vampire from _Twilight._ Mac at least pulls it off much better. 

“What do you mean no way?”

Mac rolls his eyes. “Are you kidding? You can’t wear that to a gay bar, you look like a business man.”  
  
“I _am_ a business man. I own a business, we both do, remember?”

“I think it’s kind of a stretch to call Paddy’s a ‘business’,” Mac muses.  
  
“What are you talking about? We _are_ a business. We provide a service, people pay us for that service, that’s a business,” Dennis argues, putting down his foundation as he makes his point.

“We provide booze and a roof over people’s heads to drink it in bro,” Mac replies.

“It’s still a business,” Dennis says stubbornly.  
  
“Fine, but you still can’t wear that to a gay bar.”

“But —“  
  
“No, this was our deal, remember? You help me with dating, I help you with hooking up. You won’t pick up anyone at The Rainbow like that,” Mac says, gesturing to Dennis’ shirt.

Dennis tugs at the hem of his shirt self consciously. He chose this shirt because it’s the one that Mac always said brought out the blue in his eyes. He knows Mac is right though, it’s not exactly clubbing material.

He unbuttons it, exposing his chest and stomach, and examines his reflection.

“What if I left it unbuttoned, like this?” he asks.

Mac is watching him in the mirror, and doesn’t reply for a few long moments. He licks his lips and clears his throat before answering.

“Um, it’s still a little… stiff,” he says. “I’ll go get dressed and then come help you find something.” 

He leaves the bathroom quickly, nearly upending the tub of glitter on the counter. Dennis closes his eyes and counts to ten; this night hasn’t even begun and is already a goddamn nightmare.

He finishes his makeup and heads into his room, feeling a strong sense of deja vu. He’s rummaging through his dresser when he hears Mac enter his room.

" _This_ is what you wear to a gay bar,” Mac says behind him.

Dennis turns around. Mac is wearing his slimmest jeans and his black mesh shirt, which is even tighter on him now than it was a few years ago. He’s grinning, and he twirls for Dennis, arms spread wide.

Dennis hates his fucking life. 

Mac comes to a stop when he’s facing Dennis again, still grinning. He’s left his hair loose, the way he now knows Dennis likes it. The glitter is less obnoxious now that he’s wearing a shirt, and instead gives Mac’s skin a subtle appealing glow.

“Find anything?” Mac asks. He nods at the two shirts that Dennis is gripping tightly in his hands.

“No,” Dennis says, turning back to the dresser. He hears Mac come up behind him, peering at the options.

“Jesus Dennis, do you own anything that doesn’t have a collar?” he says, reaching around to rifle through his drawer. Dennis smacks his hand before he can touch anything.  
  
“You’re going to get glitter all over everything, asshole,” he snaps. He pushes at Mac to get out of his space, but Mac doesn’t budge, still looking at his shirts. He opens another drawer, ignoring Dennis trying to shove him out of the way. It’s like trying to move a boulder.

“This could work!” Mac says excitedly, reaching for the clothes in the second drawer, and again Dennis slaps his hand away. Mac rolls his eyes. “Grab that black one then.”  
  
Dennis does, and once its unfolded he immediately shakes his head.

“No, dude, that’s trashy.”  
  
“Exactly, that’s the whole point Dennis,” Mac explains. “This will look great, just put it on.”

Dennis holds the shirt up again. It’s a simple black wife beater. He shakes his head again, unable to believe Mac would be _that_ unimaginative.

“Mac this is — inelegant. And boring. There’s no thought to this outfit,” Dennis says, holding the shirt up to his chest.

“You’re overthinking this, dude. Remember when you wore this when Paddy’s was a gay bar for like a week?”

“No…” Dennis says, trying to think back. He’d blocked out a lot of that week in his mind. 

“Well I do,” Mac says, and his voice is a little softer. “It was — a good look. Everyone was all over you.”  
  
His voice is strangled. Dennis looks up to see him running a hand through his hair, cheeks pink.

“Fine,” Dennis agrees.

He works his button up off his shoulders and pulls on the tank, Mac looking everywhere but directly at Dennis. He walks to his mirror and is surprised to see Mac was on to something; he looks pretty good.

He turns back around and Mac is watching him, expression unreadable. They spend a minute just looking at each other, air heavy with tension. 

Dennis thinks, not for the first time, that this is possibly the worst idea they’ve ever had.

 

 

 

They take an Uber, because Dennis plans on getting shit faced the moment he walks in the door.

When they arrive, Dennis can already feel the bass pumping from where they’re standing on the street. He takes a deep breath as Mac comes up next to him, and they join the queue of people waiting to get in.  
  
The line moves quickly, and right as they’re about to be let in, Mac grabs his arm suddenly. Dennis looks over; he’s reading something on his phone, eyes wide.

“Uh, Dennis?” he says, voice high, hand tightening around Dennis’ wrist. “I uh — I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” Dennis asks, skin prickling where Mac is touching him.  
  
Mac looks up and his eyes are still comically wide. Dennis almost laughs, but Mac looks panicked enough that he forces it down.  
  
“Shit, I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but I can’t really — you’re gonna see anyway…” he stammers, looking between his phone, Dennis, and the door wildly.  
  
“See _what,_ Mac?” Dennis asks, burning with curiosity.

Mac looks around anxiously, as if to make sure no one is eavesdropping. They’re pushed forward before Mac can answer, and interrupted by the bouncer checking their IDs. Dennis narrows his eyes, watching the bouncer check Mac out from behind as he walks in ahead of Dennis. The bouncer catches sight of Dennis’ expression and is immediately apologetic. 

“Sorry man, didn’t realize you two were,” he says, waving vaguely between Dennis and the space where Mac just disappeared from.

“Yeah,” Dennis hears himself saying viciously, snatching back his ID when the bouncer is done with it.

He stalks in after Mac, and the pounding bass gets more intense the closer he gets to the bar. He takes a look around; there’s a huge bar towards the back of the room, wrapping around in a U shape with booths lining the walls. Rainbows litter the entire building; posters, light fixtures, and two enormous ones arching over the bar. There’s a large open area that seems to be the designated dance floor, situated between the tables and the bar, and it’s packed.

He’s surrounded by a crowd of people as soon as he’s inside. He can’t find Mac. The bass thrums through his entire body, heart rate picking up to match the beat as he searches for Mac, trying to suppress the panic and overstimulation he feels building already. It’s been a long time since he’s been to a place like this, and now he remembers why. He knocks into the bar as someone pushes him from behind, and he turns around, ready to lash out but the person is already gone. He turns back to the bar and grips the edge of the wood tightly, trying to make himself as small as possible and even his breathing.

A minute or so passes, and suddenly he feels a hand grabbing his arm, and Mac is there. Dennis lets out a harsh breath, relief flooding through him.  
  
“Sorry, you okay?” Mac asks, voice raised so Dennis can hear him over the music. Before he can respond, Mac looks over Dennis’ shoulder nervously.  
  
“Uh, listen dude… Dee is here,” Mac continues, hand trailing down Dennis’ arm.  
  
“ _What_?” Dennis asks, eyebrows creasing together. “Why?”

Mac chews on his lip nervously and inclines his head at something behind Dennis. Dennis turns around and sees Dee sitting in a booth on the other side of the bar, nestled in close with a brunette woman. Dee’s hand is resting delicately over hers, and she leans in and whispers something in her ear before pulling back and kissing her in front of god and everyone.

“Dennis —“ he hears Mac say distantly as he pulls away from him, trancelike. 

“Dennis, wait, Dennis— _Dennis_ —“ Mac is saying frantically, trailing along behind him as he makes a beeline for Dee.

He reaches the booth; Mac smacks into his back as he comes to an abrupt stop. Dee pulls back from the woman just in time to see Dennis looming over her.

“Deandra,” he says shortly.

Dee looks cooly back at him, clearly unsurprised to see him. The woman turns around, and with a jolt Dennis recognizes her as Mac’s dancing partner from the prison.  
  
“Hey!” she cries when she sees Mac standing behind Dennis. She untangles herself from Dee and stands, hugging Mac tightly.

“Hey Callie,” Mac says as they pull away. “Good to see you,” he continues, looking anxiously between Dee and Dennis.

“I’m glad you came,” Callie says, and Dennis realizes she must have been who he was texting when they arrived.

“Yeah, we were already planning to come, so it worked out,” Mac says, gesturing to Dennis. “Um, Dennis, this is Callie, who helped me with my dance. Callie, this is Dennis, my roommate.” 

Recognition flashes over Callie’s face briefly when Mac says his name. Dennis doesn’t have time to wonder about that before she’s holding out her hand. Dennis shakes it, smiling tightly at her. 

“Nice to meet you,” Callie says. “You’re Dee’s brother, right?”

Dennis’ eyes flash back to Dee, who’s watching the interaction with an odd smile on her face.

“Yep, _twin_ brother,” Dennis answers, shooting a significant look in Dee’s direction. “You’re uh, very talented, by the way,” Dennis says politely.

“Oh, thank you,” Callie says modestly, smiling brilliantly. 

“Dee can I speak to you for a minute?” Dennis says sharply. Callie doesn’t even flinch at the sudden change in tone; all those months around Mac must have acclimatized her to random changes in subject.

Dee rolls her eyes and stands, lets herself be steered to a relatively quiet corner of the room by Dennis.

Dennis rounds on her as soon as they’re alone.

“Well?” he snarls. “Were you ever planning on telling me about this?”

“Were _you_?” Dee rejoins, stopping Dennis in his tracks.  
  
“I’m — this is different!”

“Is it?” she replies smoothly. “We’re _both_ at a gay bar right now. We’re both with people that we have the hots for —“

“I don’t ‘ _have the hots_ ’ for him —“  
  
“God, give it a rest, please,” Dee interrupts, hand rubbing her forehead. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, an explanation? Since when are you into chicks?” Dennis asks, head swimming as he tries to recall anything in their past that might have hinted at Dee being gay.  
  
“Jesus, I don’t know Dennis. How long have you been into guys?” she throws back.

Dennis gapes, struggles to respond, and she just raises her eyebrows at him.   
  
“Yeah, see?” she says.

“Dee, I — when were you going to tell me?” he repeats, gentler this time.

He’s surprised by how hurt he feels, how blindsided he is. He and Dee may not have the healthiest relationship, but he always thought he knew everything about her. They’ve been together since the womb, survived their fucked up childhoods together, leaning on each other when they had no one else. He knows her like he knows his own body, the same blood running through their veins. He can’t believe he missed something as monumental as this.

“For the record, I tried to tell you last week,” Dee answers. “You were too caught up in your own drama to let me.”  
  
Dennis thinks back, remembers their conversation in the office. Dee had looked nervous before she hugged him, like she wanted to tell him something. His heart sinks. She must have known about him then, he realizes, if not sooner.

“Dee, I —“ he starts, but she shakes her head and doesn’t let him finish.  
  
“It’s alright, Dennis,” she says, waving her hands dismissively and looking uncomfortable. “We’re both here now, right? We don’t need to talk about it. You know, we get it.”

Dennis nods, quietly grateful that she’s not going to make him say it out loud. He swallows around a lump in his throat, meeting Dee’s eyes tentatively.

“Well, a lot of shit makes sense now,” Dennis says. “Like you and Mac hanging out so much.” 

Dee rolls her eyes again. “Well, that’s mostly your fault. He was the only homo around after you left.” 

Dennis laughs, and Dee smiles at him almost tenderly.

“So, Callie huh? How long has that been going on?” Dennis asks.

“About eight months,” Dee shrugs.

“ _Eight_?” Dennis chokes. “Jesus Dee that’s the longest relationship you’ve ever had. You kept it a secret for that long?”

“Well, not exactly,” she says. “How do you think she and Mac met?”

Dennis is quiet for a second, processing.

“Huh,” is all he says. Then, “She’s too pretty for you, you know.”

“She doesn’t seem to think so,” Dee quips, and Dennis actually laughs again before he can help it.

They fall silent, Dennis struggling to think of what to say. Everything he thinks of doesn’t feel big enough, or is too corny to say out loud. Before he can embarrass himself, Dee grabs his arm and starts to pull him back to the booth.

“Okay that’s enough of this shit for tonight, let’s get drunk,” she says.

 

 

 

They get back to the booth and Mac and Callie are sitting close, talking intently. Callie notices them first, and taps Mac’s arm. He looks up just as Dee slides back in next to Callie, smiling softly at her.

“I’m getting a drink,” Dennis announces.  
  
“Me too,” Mac says. Dee and Callie don’t pay them any attention as they leave.

He and Mac weave through the crowd, Dennis feeling tense again now that the shock of the last ten minutes is wearing off. He’s aware of the music pounding through his ears again, feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

They reach the bar, and Mac orders them both something called “blue balls”, which feels a little too poignant.

“Trust me,” he assures him when Dennis looks at him quizzically.

The bartender returns with the drinks a minute later, looking Mac up and down as he sets them on the bar.  
  
“You ever going to give me your number baby?” the bartender asks Mac smoothly as Dennis eyes the blue concoctions suspiciously.

His eyes snap up to see Mac smiling and blushing at him. Dennis glares at the bartender, inspecting him more closely now. He’s ripped, not quite like Mac, but his biceps are definitely straining in his tight white t-shirt. He has a handsome face, and dark curly hair. Definitely Mac’s type.

“You ask me that every time I’m here Blake,” Mac says, laughing almost shyly.

“I’d stop if you’d just give it to me,” Blake responds, leaning closer to Mac. Dennis coughs loudly, and Blake’s eyes flick over to him.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks, turning his leer onto Dennis.  
  
“Dennis,” he says loudly.

Blake just nods. “First time?” 

“Wha— no,” Dennis lies.

Blake hums, looking Dennis over, gaze flickering between both of them.

“Well, the offer is open for you too, Dennis,” he says, voice sugary sweet. He leaves to attend to another customer, Dennis glaring after him.

“What the hell was that?” Dennis asks Mac as soon as he’s gone.

“Don’t worry about it, he hits on everyone,” Mac says. “Try your drink.”  
  
“He seems to be extra into you,” Dennis pushes sourly.

Mac doesn’t answer; he picks up his glass pointedly. Dennis sighs and takes a sip of his, Mac watching him closely for his reaction. He’s surprised to find that Mac was right, it’s delicious.

Mac must be able to tell he likes it, because he beams at him. “See, I told you it was good!”

Dennis nods and downs the rest of it quickly; it’s sweet enough that he can barely taste the alcohol. His head swims pleasantly when he slams the glass back down.

“Be careful dude, they sneak up on you,” Mac warns. He follows suit though and finishes his. He flags down another bartender, thankfully not Blake, and orders two more.

“So have you two ever, you know…” Dennis asks once they have their drinks.

Mac hesitates just long enough for Dennis to know the answer. He clenches his jaw and takes a sip, watching Mac fidget.

“Yeah, a long time ago,” Mac admits. “Like, before I was even out.”

“More than once?” Dennis presses. These drinks are definitely stronger than he realized, alcohol already loosening his tongue after only one and a half. He’s not sure why he’s engaging in this self torture.

Mac looks at him oddly. “Why are you asking me this?”

Dennis shrugs and looks away, focusing his attention on stirring his drink.  
  
“Just curious, I guess,” he says.

Mac doesn’t respond. He takes a long pull of his own drink before changing the subject.

“So you and Dee are cool?”

“Yeah, we are,” Dennis answers. “Fuck you very much for not telling me, by the way.”

“I couldn’t, bro!” Mac cries. “I wasn’t gonna out her, and she specifically asked me not to tell you guys. Threatened me, too.”

Dennis sighs, rolling his eyes and reaching out to touch Mac’s arm. “I know, calm down. That’s — it was cool of you not to tell us. I’m just still… processing.”

“Yeah,” Mac agrees. “You should have seen my face when I saw her here the first time.”  
  
Dennis laughs, and they finish their drinks, effectively ending the conversation. Dennis’ hand is still resting on Mac’s arm; neither of them mention it, and he doesn’t pull away.

“So, see anyone you like?” Mac asks.

Dennis’ stomach flips. He hadn’t even noticed anyone else, nearly forgot the reason they were here.  
  
“Uh, not really,” he answers, pulling his hand from Mac’s arm. He looks around; nearly everyone at the bar is already chatting up someone or isn’t up to Dennis’ standards.  
  
“No one?” Mac says. “Come on, don’t be so picky.”  
  
“Picky? Mac, I’m a _ten_ , I’m not going to settle just to — experiment, or _practice_ being gay, or whatever.”

“God you’re such a bitch,” Mac mutters. “Look just — find someone hot, and make eyes at him.” 

“‘Make eyes’? Is that seriously your pick up advice?” Dennis asks incredulously, laughing.  
  
“Well it always worked!” Mac says petulantly. “Usually guys would just like… offer to buy me a drink and then they’d, you know —“  
  
“Blow you?” Dennis asks, smiling and taking enormous pleasure in the way Mac blushes.

“That’s — we’re not talking about me!” Mac blusters, flagging down a bartender. “You’re the one that needs help.”  
  
“Jesus, I don’t need help Mac. And the only reason it’s so easy for you is because you look like —“

He snaps his mouth shut. Mac stops his frenzied waving to look at him intently.

“Like what?”

Dennis feels himself blushing now, tries to get his thoughts back where they belong, deep and untouchable in his conscience. It’s difficult with the way the alcohol is swimming through his brain.

“Forget it,” Dennis mumbles.

Mac is about to push it but is interrupted by another bartender finally arriving to take their drink order.

“Sorry, what can I get you?“

“Took you long enough,” Mac says rudely. She looks affronted, but Mac is barely paying her any attention, mouth set in a pout as he watches Dennis.  
  
“Jesus Mac,” Dennis breathes. “Sorry, we’ll have two more of these blue… things,” he requests, refusing to order it by its name.

She shoots Mac an irritated look before mixing the drinks, slamming each bottle on the bar after pouring. Mac is lucky they’re sitting right in front of her or she definitely would have spit in his.

They drink the next round in silence. Dennis looks around at potential candidates, eager to get away from Mac before he says something stupid again.

He’s definitely tipsy now; Mac wasn’t kidding about the potency of the drinks here. His eyes suddenly lock with Blake, who’s on the other side of the bar waiting on another customer. He considers for a minute, and decides he’s the only other person here besides Mac that’s anywhere near his league. He raises his eyebrows suggestively, tongue darting out to search for his straw. Blakes mouth falls open slightly. He purses his lips excessively as he sips, Blake watching him hungrily.

Fuck Mac for thinking he couldn’t pick up a dude by himself.

“What are you doing?” Mac hisses, pulling at Dennis’ shoulder and forcing him to drop eye contact with Blake.

“I’m ‘making eyes’ at someone,” Dennis mocks. “Isn’t that what you just told me to do?”

He sees Blake making his way over to them out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, but —“  
  
Mac is cut off by Blake’s appearance. He leans over, smiling as he cozies up to Dennis as best he can with the bar between them.

“You need a refill?” he asks lowly. 

There’s still a third of Dennis’ drink left. He removes the straw, leaning his head back as he finishes it, exposing as much of his throat as he can. He wipes his mouth and hands the glass back to Blake, who is watching Dennis with barely concealed lust in his eyes. He moves down the bar a little to work on Dennis’ drink, and Mac smacks his arm once he’s out of earshot.

“Dude! I just told you we used to hook up!”

“So?” Dennis asks, and Mac looks affronted. “Do you still want to bang him?”

“I — no, but that’s not the _point_ ,” Mac complains.

“Mac, he’s the only hot person here, and you _said_ you would help me. And honestly, you suck at this wingman shit, because I pulled him all on my own in less than a minute.”

Blake appears again, cutting off whatever protest Mac was about to make. He slides Dennis his drink, and Dennis lets his hand brush over his as he takes it. He doesn’t pull it back, and neither does Blake. He hears Mac make a choking noise next to him but ignores him.

“So, when do you get off?” Dennis asks Blake, voice low and velvety. His thumb brushes over his as he talks.

“Not until close,” Blake answers. “But I get a break in five minutes, want to meet me on the dance floor?”

It’s cheesy, but Dennis doesn’t care. He smiles, and pulls his hand away to pick up his drink.

“See you there,” he answers. Blake returns his smile before turning away and heading back to the other side of the bar.

“Dennis, what —“ Mac starts.

“Mac, shut up,” Dennis snaps, surprising both of them. “What is your problem? I’m doing exactly what _you_ said I should, if you recall.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember telling you to hit on someone I used to bang!” Mac says angrily. “Jesus, dude, where’s your sense of boundaries?”

“ _My_ sense of boundaries? You used to sleep with every woman I ever had sex with!” Dennis spits, and Mac swears under his breath irritably. “Am I supposed to stay away from every guy you’ve ever slept with at The Rainbow? Because that’s a pretty small pool to work with.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mac snarls.  
  
“What do you think it means, Mac?”

“God, you’re an asshole Dennis,” he breathes, turning away from Dennis to finish his drink.

Dennis stares at his profile for a minute, breathing quickly. He regrets this conversation already, wishes Mac was still arguing with him because that was easier than watching him just take Dennis’ vitriol. 

He tries to come up with an apology through the drunk fog in his mind, but before he can spit it out Blake is approaching him from the direction of the dance floor.

“Hey, break time,” he says to Dennis, holding out his hand.

Mac glares at them, and Dennis almost brushes Blake off. Just as he opens his mouth to tell him to fuck off, Mac slides off his stool and sweeps past them to a man a few seats down. He sees Mac smile charmingly at him, barely making out the words “can I buy you a drink?” coming out of his mouth. 

“Dennis?” Blake asks hesitantly, hand still extended towards Dennis awkwardly.

Dennis turns his attention back to him, heart pounding and blood boiling. He takes Blake’s hand, and leads them past Mac to the throng of people gyrating on the dance floor. He positions them directly in Mac’s eye line, wraps his arms around Blake’s neck, and before he can think too hard about it, they start to move. 

It’s a good thing he’s drunk, because Dennis is not good at this without a few drinks in his system. He and Blake sway together a little awkwardly, not quite grinding because Dennis is keeping some distance between their bodies. Blake pushes forward a little, brings their hips together, and then they fall into a more natural rhythm. The music pulses through Dennis, loud and fast and more enjoyable than before, the alcohol smoothing the harsh edges.

For a minute he forgets about Mac, loses himself in the feeling of big hands on his hips, of a hard body moving against his for the first time. Blake gets bold, lets his hands roam down to Dennis’ ass, squeezing lightly through his jeans. Dennis groans and tilts his head back, unable to stop himself. He presses further into Blake, can feel that he’s already half hard. He looks at Blake’s face; his pupils are blown as he stares at Dennis with unabashed want. Dennis swallows, and maneuvers them so that his back is against Blake’s chest. Blake pulls him flush against him immediately, hands pulling on Dennis’ hips.

Dennis catches sight of Mac now that he’s turned around. He’s still chatting up the same guy, but his eyes keep flicking over to Dennis and Blake. He doesn’t even pretend that he’s not staring when Dennis catches him.

Dennis leans his head back on Blake’s shoulder, watching as Mac’s face clouds over from across the bar.

“You’re so hot,” Blake whispers in Dennis’ ear. Dennis shudders, drinks in the praise, grinds back against Blake more intensely. He hears Blake gasp in his ear as he does so. Dennis closes his eyes, can almost pretend it’s Mac’s hands on him, Mac’s mouth brushing over his neck.

They keep it up for a few more minutes until the song ends, and Blake trails his hands over Dennis’ torso, turning him around to face him. Dennis’ hands come to rest on his chest.

“I have to get back,” he says, breathing fast. “Meet me after close?” 

Dennis hesitates, breathing erratic and heart racing. He looks at Blake’s face, thinks about going home with him. He should say yes; part of him actually wants to say yes. This was his plan, to get over Mac by sleeping with other people, to make sure Mac _saw_ him sleeping with other people so he’d never suspect him. And Blake isn’t the worst he could do for his first sexual experience with a man. He should say yes, but the words keep getting stuck in his throat.

Blake is watching him carefully, waiting on tenterhooks. Dennis nods eventually, and Blake smiles at him.

“Okay, until then,” Blake says. He leans in as if to kiss him, but Dennis leans away.

“Save it for later,” Dennis deflects when Blake furrows his brows.

Blake smiles again before heading back to the bar. Dennis stands amidst the other dancers for a minute, letting the implication of what he just agreed to sink in. Several people knock into him, one even tries to engage him in a dance, but Dennis barely notices any of it. He just breathes, staring at nothing and listening to the sudden loud humming in his ears. 

He glances over at Mac eventually. He’s engaged in conversation with the guy he’s talking to, and he watches as they both throw their heads back and laugh. Mac takes a sip of his drink as he calms down, and his eyes lock with Dennis.  
  
Dennis doesn’t move or avert his gaze. Mac must read something on his face, because he makes an excuse to the guy and slides off his stool, making his way over to Dennis quickly.

“Hey, you okay?” Mac asks once he’s within earshot.

Dennis’ panic immediately ebbs now that Mac here. He feels his pulse slow, feels like he can breathe properly; he moves closer to Mac on pure instinct.

“Yeah,” Dennis says.

“You sure? Cause Blake is kind of a dick, dude,” Mac says. “He’s always hitting on customers and fucking them over, he just bangs people and then leaves them hanging.” 

Dennis huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t seem to care when he was flirting with you earlier.”

“Well, yeah, cause he’s hot,” Mac answers matter of factly. “And if I flirt back he gives me discounted drinks. He’s still a dick though.”

Dennis shrugs. “Whatever, I’m not looking for much beyond ‘hot’ tonight anyway.”

Concern flashes across Mac’s face, but he doesn’t say anything else. Someone knocks into Mac, pushing him further into Dennis’ space, barely a foot between them. Dennis’ head swims, alcohol and proximity to Mac making him dizzy. Dennis feels himself swaying to the beat thoughtlessly, Mac mirroring his movement as he watches Dennis with shuttered eyes. 

“You’re a shitty dancer,” Mac says out of nowhere, ruining the moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you’re way too jerky,” Mac elaborates. “Like you’re thinking too much.”

“I’m an excellent dancer,” Dennis argues. “Blake sure seemed to enjoy it.”  
  
Mac’s eyes narrow briefly, but he brushes it off and keeps talking, quickly like he has an agenda and he’s trying not to get off track.

“No dude, you have to be like, fluid. That’s what Callie taught me.” He looks the way he does when talking about karate, smug and falsely confident like he’s an expert despite having zero actual expertise.  
  
“Jesus, you learn _one_ choreographed dance and suddenly you’re Anna Pavlova.”

Mac frowns. “Who’s that?”

“Oh my god, Mac.”  
  
“Whatever, I’m right dude! I’m a way better dancer than you now, admit it.”

Dennis has had enough. The rational part of his brain, weakened significantly by the alcohol swimming in his veins, finally gives in to his impulse control. He steps forward, body nearly flush with Mac’s. He hears Mac’s intake of breath even through the deafening music, through his heart pounding in his ears.

“Prove it,” he says, breathing in Mac’s gasp.

Mac’s eyes are wide, flicking between Dennis’ eyes and his mouth, and Dennis can feel how quickly he’s breathing, chest heaving against his. He has a brief vision of glitter transferring from Mac’s chest to his shirt, can’t bring himself to care. Mac swallows hard. Dennis can read his hesitation in the way he licks his lips, the way his hands are clenching at his sides.

The tension in Mac’s face breaks, and suddenly his hands are on Dennis’s hips, closing the last bit of distance between them. Dennis’ hands settle on Mac’s shoulders, fingers brushing his skin through the holes in his shirt. Mac starts to move, guides Dennis’ hips along with the beat. Dennis can feel his breath against his cheek, fast and shallow.

The song changes, but Mac doesn’t stop. He keeps rocking against Dennis, face close, fingers clenching on his hips. Dennis’ hands roam over Mac’s shoulders, brushing over his neck before settling in his hair. He hears Mac groan softly, the sound going straight to his dick, pressed against Mac’s as he grinds relentlessly.

Dennis closes his eyes, tilts his head back slightly to catch his breath. His head is so fuzzy, only aware of the feeling of Mac’s hands on him, of his body moving against his, rush of endorphins flooding through his body over and over again. It’s nothing like what he felt with Blake; his stomach plunges pleasantly every time Mac’s hands shift, every time he catches sight of Mac’s wrecked expression.

He opens his eyes, and Mac’s face is so close. His eyes are hooded, gaze fixed on Dennis’ neck. Heart in his throat, Dennis leans forward, pushes his forehead against Mac’s, their breaths mingling. Mac shifts so that one leg slots between Dennis’, and Dennis can’t help but let out a choked moan, eyes falling shut.  
  
“Dennis,” Mac breathes.

His voice breaks through the cloud in Dennis’ brain like the sun breaking through a storm. He pulls his head back, breathing heavily, and catches a glance of Dee over Mac’s shoulder. She’s not even looking at him, but the sight of her shatters the moment completely, brings him crashing back to reality. His head stops spinning abruptly. Mac is staring him, eyes tracking all over his face.

“Well you uh — I guess you made your point,” Dennis says, throat constricted.

His hands drop from Mac’s hair and he steps back. Mac lets him go, hands falling limply to his sides. It’s sweltering from the hot press off all the bodies moving and sweating around him, but he still shivers at the loss of contact.

Mac still hasn’t said anything. He’s just watching Dennis, like he’s waiting for a cue, or an explanation. Several excuses filter through Dennis’ mind but die in his throat.

He turns on his heel, suddenly needing to be as far away from Mac as possible. He ambles back to the bar, flagging down the first bartender he sees and ordering a shot of vodka, then another, determined to drown the feeling of Mac pressed against him before it can latch in his memory.

He sits at the bar for a few long minutes, trying to catch his breath, nails digging into his palms as he chastises himself for being so stupid. He counts off all the reasons for staying away from Mac in his head, pinching his arms any time he accidentally thinks about how it felt being touched and held by him.

It takes about five minutes before he feels like he can trust himself again. Blake is luckily nowhere in sight, not behind the bar or anywhere on the floor. He eases himself off the stool, stumbling slightly as the shots take hold. He spots Mac almost immediately, holed up in Dee and Callie’s booth looking sullen. He’s looking at the table, speaking intently, forearms resting on the table and hands clasped together. Dennis sees Callie’s hand reach out and rub his arm soothingly, looking serious as she talks. He can’t see Dee’s face from where he’s standing, but he can imagine what she’s saying. She’s probably telling Mac he can do better, that he isn’t worth it, that he’s an unfeeling monster who doesn’t deserve Mac. 

He has to get out of here. He fucking _knew_ tonight was a bad idea, and he can’t stand to be here a second longer. He bolts to the exit, weaving clumsily through the faceless bodies, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He’s acutely aware of the music again, feels the bass hammer through his bones, wants to claw his skin off to stop the tremors.

He steps out into the cold night air, breathing in deep lungfuls of it. He pulls out his phone with trembling hands to order an Uber. It arrives almost immediately; Dennis climbs in, rests his head against the cold window as they move through the quiet Philadelphia streets. He feels his phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket, knows exactly who it is. He ignores it.

 

 

 

By the time he gets back to the apartment, he’s calmed down enough to check his phone. Twelve missed calls and seven texts, all from Mac. He opens their message chain; the texts are increasingly frantic.  
  
_“did u leave?”_  
  
“ _Den_ _where_ _r_   _u_?”  
  
“ _seriously_ _dude_ _r_ _u_ _ok_?”

_“answer the phone”_

_“blake is still here, says u disappeared??”_

_“dennis ill call the cops if u dont pick up”_

_“last warning dude!!!”_

Dennis sighs at the theatrics and dials Mac.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Dennis?”

“Hi, I’m fine,” Dennis says, their usual greeting whenever this kind of thing happens. “I came back home.”

He hears a key rattle in the lock, and whips around to see Mac opening the door, phone still pressed against his ear with his free hand.

“I know,” Mac says into the phone before hanging up emphatically. His face is stormy; he slams the door, keeping his back to Dennis for a long moment before turning around to face him.

“How?” Dennis asks, dropping his phone onto the couch.

“Because I know you, Dennis,” Mac answers. “Why the hell did you leave without telling me?” he asks angrily.

Heat sears through Dennis’ veins in response to Mac’s anger. “I didn’t realize you were my goddamn keeper.”

“Stop it,” Mac snaps. “You scared the shit out of me, you don’t just disappear from a sleazy club without telling your friends bro.”

“I’m not a twenty year old girl, Mac, _Jesus_. I can take care of myself.” 

Mac takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to reign in his anger. A minute passes, then two. Mac fidgets, looking at Dennis, and then at his own hands, saying nothing. Dennis sighs, tired of waiting, and pads past Mac towards his room. He’s ready to pass out and forget tonight ever happened. 

“Why did you do that, Dennis?” Mac’s voice floats over to him.

Dennis freezes, hand clenched on his doorknob.

“I felt sick, I needed to get out of there,” Dennis says to the door. Mac’s voice is much closer when he speaks again.

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Dennis turns around, jumping slightly when he realizes how close Mac is. He could easily reach out and touch him, fingers itching to pull him in, to feel him against him again.

“Why did you —?” Mac trails off, voice softer. He doesn’t seem angry anymore; he’s watching Dennis closely, faint trace of hope painting his features.

Dennis breaks. All his walls come crashing down, unable to deny himself what he wants for one second longer. His hands cup Mac’s face, and he pulls him in and kisses him. 

He drags him down with enough force that Mac’s body rocks against his. Dennis stumbles backwards, and Mac makes a quiet shocked sound against his mouth. He hesitates, and pulls away after a minute to look at Dennis, eyes wider than he’s ever seen them. Dennis’ hands are still on his face as he stares at him.  
  
“Dennis?” Mac asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Please,” Dennis pleads, doesn’t give a shit how pathetic he sounds. “Mac —“

That’s all the encouragement Mac needs. His mouth is back on Dennis’ before he can finish, kissing him rough and desperate. Dennis feels his hands grip his hips, pull him closer, mouth moving fast and insistent against Dennis’. Dennis opens his mouth, and Mac’s tongue slides over his immediately. Dennis moans, and instead of scaring him away, this time it spurs Mac on. He pushes forward until Dennis’ back hits the door. Their mouths separate briefly from the impact, Dennis moaning again, louder in the thick air between them. He gets a quick glimpse of Mac’s slick red mouth before it’s pressed against his again.

He licks into Dennis’ mouth slow, biting down on his bottom lip, intent on dragging as many sounds out of Dennis as he can. His hands are everywhere, Dennis’ back, his stomach, his ribs. He shudders as Mac’s thumb brushes the bare skin of his hip; it’s so reminiscent of their kiss from twenty years ago that Dennis’ head is spinning. He winds his arms around Mac’s neck, wedges his leg between Mac’s to pull him impossibly closer.

Mac groans, the sound vibrating through Dennis’ entire body. They break apart to breathe; Mac looks so fucking gone from just a few minutes of kissing, and Dennis is sure he doesn’t look any better.

“Fuck, _Dennis_ ,” Mac gasps, breath puffing against Dennis’ lips.

He could get used to Mac saying his name like that, wants to hear it everyday. He smiles and slots their lips together again, slow and sweet now, relishing the way his stomach dips with every drag of Mac’s mouth over his.

Mac’s hands slide under Dennis’ shirt, and he shivers as Mac’s fingers trail over his skin, his nails digging in when Dennis moans. Mac shifts his hips, changing the angle, and Dennis feels his cock slide against his through their jeans. They break apart again to breathe harshly, Mac’s mouth attaching to Dennis’ neck almost immediately. Dennis bites his lip, trying to keep quiet as Mac bites at his pulse point, tongue soothing over it before repeating the process. He ruts helplessly against Mac’s leg, hands in his hair again. He pulls as Mac sucks a bruise on his neck, and Mac moans loudly, pressing Dennis more firmly against the door.

Mac kisses him again, and Dennis is already addicted to it. He’s a little sloppy, but he more than makes up for the lack of finesse with his enthusiasm. He kisses Dennis like it’s what he was born to do, like he’ll die if he stops.

Mac pulls back to breathe, rests his forehead against Dennis’. He lets his hands trace over Mac’s face, over his neck.

“Den, I — this is —“ Mac stutters breathlessly, lips brushing Dennis’ softly as he talks.

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees, smiling against his mouth. “ _Much_ better than spending the night with Blake.”

Mac goes still. He leans back, expression guarded as he looks at Dennis, so irreconcilably different to how he looked moments ago that Dennis wonders briefly if he imagined what just happened.  
  
“Dennis was this… was this just an experiment?” he asks, carefully controlling his voice. 

Dennis’ blood goes cold. “What?”

Mac steps away completely. Dennis’ hands are left grasping at the empty space where he was just standing.

“Answer the question. Is this just — ‘ _practice_ ’? Like you were gonna do with Blake?” Mac asks shakily.

Dennis’ heart thuds dully in his ears. It’s like he’s just had a bucket of cold water dumped on him, sobering him immediately and allowing him to take a rational look at what’s happening. He wants to tell Mac the truth, wants to feel Mac’s hands and mouth on him, never wants to be without it again. But he fucked up, bad. He let himself give in, and all the reasons he had for not acting on his feelings come rushing back to him, leave him reeling from the whiplash of such conflicting emotions in the span of a few minutes.

He can’t speak, can’t come up with a single answer. He says nothing, decides to let Mac think he’s a monster, because it’s easier than admitting that Mac is his vulnerability, his biggest weakness.

It’s all the answer Mac needs. His face falls. Dennis has never seen him look so hurt; he can see Mac’s heart breaking right in front of him, and he hates himself.

“Mac —“ he starts miserably, no idea what he’s going to say, how he can possibly make it better.  
  
“Fuck you Dennis,” Mac says, voice low and cold.

He turns and storms into his room, slamming the door behind him. Dennis retreats to his own room, staring blankly at the wall once he’s closed the door behind him. His hand closes around the lamp on his nightstand, clenching tight as he replays the last ten minutes in his head. He yanks, cord snapping from the socket and cracking it, and hurls the lamp at the wall as hard as he can. He sinks to the floor, sits amidst the broken glass for hours, head on his knees, hands clenching and pulling painfully in his hair.

 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( 
> 
> it’s going to get better I promise!!
> 
> but if you really wanna lean into the depression, listen to 'red earth & pouring rain' by bears den, because it was lowkey written about macdennis and specifically about dennis in this fic. thank you ale for ruining my life with it
> 
> couple things about this chapter!  
> 1\. who else cries about these terrible twins on the reg? I’m literally incapable of writing a fic without a meaningful scene between dee and dennis, i’m always emotional about them and their bond after going through such a traumatic childhood together.  
> 2\. dee/the waitress is the true endgame of sunny and I almost wrote her as dee’s gf, but I really wanted to include mac’s dance partner as a character and pair her with dee so sue me!! and I’m not imaginative enough to come up with a name thats not basically her real name leave me alone
> 
> anyway I love you all and you can come yell at me on tumblr @hyruling. I’m either not going to have much time to write or plenty of time to write next week, depending on how much my relatives annoy me, so next chapter might be a little late. happy holidays and I love you all again! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this results in Dee and Charlie burrowing even further into his business and taking it upon themselves to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: suicidal ideation, minor self harm (slightly accidental again), discussion of eating disorder, brief dissociation, non graphic description of binge drinking, dennis being a bastard man as usual. basically though it's still relatively mild, this chapter is a lot heavier re: dennis' mental health, but gets a lot more lighthearted towards the end.

He doesn’t sleep. He spends the entire night on his floor, staring at the broken shards from his lamp, body and mind numb. He doesn’t think about much at all, but he can’t stop his eyes from drawing back to the glass over and over, wondering. He doesn’t let himself think about Mac, instead spends hours in the same cycle; staring numbly at the wall, then the glass, then at his own hands, before starting all over again.

He comes back to himself with a jolt when he feels his hand close around the closest shard. He drops it, terrified, heart hammering in his chest. He sees a smear of blood, harsh and jarring against the thick white glass, and lurches to his feet. He washes his hand in the bathroom, applies pressure to stop the bleeding the way Dee did for his foot, and struggles to put on a bandage with the way his hands are shaking. It’s the wrong color, because Mac bought the ones that match his skin tone, and it looks dark and out of place on his pale palm. He tiptoes out to the kitchen and finds the broom, sweeps up the rest of the shards, hands still shaking uncontrollably. He crawls into his bed when he’s done, shivering and sweating all at once.

He needs to fix this.

He finally drifts off around eight AM, and sleeps fitfully until he hears Mac moving around in the living room. He stumbles to his feet, and throws open his bedroom door just as Mac is about to leave.

“Mac,” he calls, voice hoarse.

He freezes. Dennis can tell he’s about to brush him off from the way his back tenses, and takes advantage of his hesitation.

“Mac please, can I just — can we talk?” he asks, stepping forward and tentatively reaching out to touch Mac’s shoulder.

Mac shrugs him off and slams the front door. His face is hard and furious when he whirls around to face him.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. The words pierce Dennis like knives, uncomfortable echo of himself saying those exact same words to Mac reverberating in his head.

Dennis backs away a little, hands tucking into the pockets of his jeans as a sign of goodwill. Mac looks him over; he’s still wearing his clothes from last night, still covered almost head to toe in Mac’s glitter. He’s sure there are dark circles under his eyes and that his hair is a mess from pulling at it for over an hour last night.

“What?” Mac finally says shortly, arms crossing in front of him.

Dennis flounders, trying to find the words he needs to make this better, to smooth the harsh edges in Mac’s face and make sure he never looks at Dennis like that again. But it’s hard; he’s sleep deprived and hungover, can’t focus, can’t think, thoughts racing faster than he can keep up with them. So he just opens his mouth, hoping he’ll find the answer along the way.

“Look last night — I wasn’t just trying to ‘practice’ or whatever with you, okay?” he starts. He pulls his hands from his pockets and rubs his arms nervously. “I — it was a mistake, and I was really drunk, but it wasn’t — like that.”

Mac’s face is stony as he listens. He doesn’t budge, and Dennis squirms under his gaze.

“So, you _weren’t_ using me, but it also didn’t mean anything,” Mac summarizes.

“Right,” Dennis agrees breathlessly, feeling the knot in his chest loosen now that Mac gets it.

Mac laughs humorlessly, shaking his head.

“How is that any better, Dennis?” he asks.

Dennis stares, struggles with how to respond, but Mac doesn’t give him the chance anyway.

“Seriously, tell me, how is that better? You knew how I felt about you, and you danced with me, and _kissed_ me, and let me think —“

He cuts himself off and runs a hand over his mouth, looking miserable.

“Mac —“  
  
“ _You_ initiated everything Dennis, and you _knew_ what you were doing,” Mac continues. “And I was stupid enough to fall for your bullshit, just like I always do and I just — I can’t be around you.”

Dennis’ chest constricts again, and he steps forward into Mac’s space, ready to give in, to tell Mac the truth, anything he wants to hear. But as soon as he’s within reach, Mac shoves him hard, breathing ragged and face stormy.

Dennis stumbles back, and for the first time doesn’t retaliate. They stare at each other for a long moment; Mac’s face looks just how it did when Luther walked away all those weeks ago, and his chest feels like it’s splintering apart. Mac tears open the front door and disappears through it.

Dennis’ eyes immediately draw to the trash can where he dumped the broken glass. He swallows hard and pulls the liner from the can, motions jerky and frantic, and shoves it into the trash chute in the hallway, trembling violently.

 

*

 

Mac starts sleeping at Dee’s.

Dennis doesn’t even see him except at Paddy’s, and he avoids Dennis so thoroughly it’s as if he’s invisible to Mac. He tries to engage him several times, but Mac finds excuses and ducks him every time.

He should be angry that Mac is being so infuriatingly unreasonable, but the more Mac pushes him away, the more Dennis loses his steam and retreats to the numb, empty place in his mind. The place he goes when his emotions become overwhelming, aided by alcohol and any inhalants he can bum off of Charlie.

A week passes, then two with Dennis drowning in the fog, falling into a routine of heavy drinking and sleeping. He starts skipping work, preferring to drink at home alone when Mac’s only response to his bingeing is indifference, and everyone else’s is to judge and rag on him. He ignores calls from Frank, and Dee, and even one or two from Charlie. He doesn’t even bother keeping it charged when it become clear Mac isn’t going to call.

He stops eating. He lives off a package of stale crackers he finds in the back of the pantry, soothing the hunger pangs with alcohol, drinking until he passes out when they become impossible to ignore.

The days blur together, and he doesn’t remember much. He remembers Dee showing up one night, screaming at him about something he can’t quite pin down in his mind. He remembers her plugging in his phone despite his loud objections, wincing when the screen lit up bright in the darkness of his room. He remembers her bony hands shoving him into bed, remembers watching her walk around his room collecting bottles. He remembers waking up at one point in the night to find her still in his room, perched eerily at the end of his bed.

Two mornings later, she shows up early while he’s still sober. He has a nasty hangover, and curses her out when she bangs on his door incessantly until he lets her in.

“Goddammit Dee, do you know what time it is?” he snaps as she lets herself in, rubbing at his temples in vain. She’s brought breakfast, and his stomach roils when the smell reaches his nose. She opens the bag of food and starts unpacking it on the table.

“It’s nine, dicknose. Sit down.”  
  
“This is _my_ apartment Dee, I’ll sit if I want —“  
  
“Just sit, Dennis, goddamn you. The simplest thing, I swear,” she mutters.

He eyes her suspiciously for a minute before giving in, too tired to put up a fight about something so miniscule. As soon as he’s seated she starts piling various foods in front of him, as well as a to go cup of coffee from his favorite coffee place.

“Eat.”

She’s towering over him, hands on her hips. She looks so much like their mother when she stands like that. He almost tells her so, but then he remembers the yelling from two nights ago, and thinks better of it.

“I’m not hungry.”  
  
“You are. Your pantry is empty, and you look like shit, and I spent thirty bucks on all of this, asshole, so you’re going to eat it.”

“Do you really think you can _bully_ me into doing anything? I’m not scared of you Dee.”

“Jesus Dennis, do you think I’m doing this for my own entertainment? Do you think I want to be here right now? It’s my anniversary with Callie today, and instead of staying in bed, having morning sex with her —“  
  
“ _Dee_ , Jesus Christ, I don’t wanna hear —“  
  
“— I’m stuck here, arguing with you and trying to make sure you don’t die, despite the fact that it goes directly against my best interests to keep you alive.”

Dennis has no response to that. She _is_ the only person who seems to give a shit that he’s slowly killing himself, he may as well indulge her, at least while she’s here. Reluctantly, he picks up a blueberry muffin and takes a small bite. She doesn’t quite smile, but her mouth twists up a little on one side.

They sit there for ten minutes or so, Dee coercing and threatening him into eating a full meal for the first time in more days than he can count. He feels sick, but Dee doesn’t let up. She makes him drink an entire bottle of Gatorade too, and he’s annoyed to find that he feels a little more human by the time he’s done.

“So… what did he tell you?” Dennis asks hesitantly when she stops yammering and poking at him.

“Enough,” Dee says. She rolls her eyes. “Not the whole story, he’s being a dramatic little shit about it honestly. And annoying me to death, so any time you want to make up…”  
  
“Hey, I’m ready any time, he’s the one ignoring _me_.”

“Jesus, you two are _so_ — look, I don’t have time for this, just — here.”

She rustles around in her purse for a minute, and comes up with a familiar looking orange bottle. Dennis’ blood goes cold as she sets it in front of him.

“What is this?” he asks calluously.

“What does it look like?” she responds. He’s shaking, heart racing as he stares between the bottle and Dee’s face. “I went through a lot to get these Dennis, because you need them.”

He stands abruptly, beside himself with rage, sparking hot in his blood, so angry he can’t even speak as she continues.

“I know you said you don’t like how they make you feel, but you were better on them Dennis, you didn’t give it a fair chance —“

“What the _fuck_ Dee?” he explodes. She jumps back, startled. “You are _not_ a goddamn psychiatrist, and you don’t know anything about this, about what I _need_ —“  
  
“Dennis, I’ve been with you our entire life, and I know _you_ ,” she retorts, recovering from her brief shock and standing to meet Dennis head on. “You are not good right now, alright? Look at yourself! One tiny fight with Mac and you’re losing your shit.”

“It wasn’t just a tiny fight, stop acting like you know what you’re talking about, you stupid bitch,” Dennis snarls, pacing around the kitchen and seething. He picks up the bottle and throws it none too gently at Dee. “Take these and get the fuck out.”  
  
“Dennis, for gods sake, just —“

“Go!”

She doesn’t move; she just watches him obstinately as he paces.

He waits as long as he can stand it, and when she still doesn’t leave he storms past her and out of the apartment, slamming the door as he leaves.

He walks, ears ringing and hands shaking, for what feels like hours. He walks until the fire in his chest recedes, until the prickling in his skin goes numb, until his fingers are blue from the cold, until he can think about Dee without seeing red.

He stops when he reaches a park, swing set and benches so thickly covered in snow that he doesn’t even recognize it, and then Dee is there, pulling into the parking lot behind him. He hadn’t even noticed her following him. He watches her park. She doesn’t get out of the car, she just waits as his feet carry him to the passenger seat, movements mechanical and thoughtless. The drive back is quiet, but there’s no tension between them. Dee cranks up the heat, and reaches across the dash to hold one of Dennis’ frozen hands in her oversized warm one. Just like all their fights, they forgive, forget, and move on faster than the fight itself. It was the only option they had as children, and it’s something they’ve carried into adulthood, the basic foundation of their survival instincts.

He doesn’t agree to take the pills, but he finds them on his bathroom counter when he gets home, waiting for him. He stows them in the cabinet before he can think better of it.

 

*

 

He doesn’t take the pills, but he does ease off the drinking. A little. He ends up spending a lot of time with Charlie, who doesn’t ask any questions, or pry, or force medication down his throat. He doesn’t make Dennis eat, or drink water, or any of the other annoying shit Mac used to do and that Dee has taken it upon herself to do in his absence. They get high and watch wrestling and cartoons and don’t talk much, and he quickly becomes Dennis’ favorite person in the gang.

But eventually, even Charlie gets nosy and ruins it.

“Dude, why are you like, always here now?”

Dennis freezes where he’s stood at Charlie’s decrepit hot stove, trying to learn how to make a grilled Charlie, mostly out of curiosity and to have something to do with his hands, not out of any kind of desire to actually eat the disgusting thing.

“What, do you want me to go?”

“No, it’s been cool having you hang out but like, what’s up with you and Mac? Dee said he’s always at her place and annoying the shit out of her.”

“Yeah well, that’s what he does,” Dennis says vindictively.

“Come on, what’s going on?” Charlie asks again. “You’re doing that totally wrong by the way, the cheese goes on the outside.”  
  
“That makes no goddamn sense, Charlie,” Dennis argues.

“I’m telling you how to do this man!” Charlie exclaims. “Put the cheese on the outside, and tell me why you’ve been so mopey.”

“I’m not putting the cheese on the outside! This is revolting, why am I even — here,” he says, thrusting the spatula at Charlie and picking up his seventh bottle of beer of the afternoon.  
  
“See, that too,” Charlie pushes, pointing at the bottle with the spatula he just reclaimed. “You’ve been drinking like, a lot, even for us.”

“Goddammit, it’s none of your — why do you give a shit Charlie?” Dennis snaps, already at a ten, frustration building hot and suffocating in his chest.

“Because you’re my friend dude,” Charlie answers simply.

It’s stupid, so _fucking_ stupid and nonsensical, that this is what sends him careening head first into the panic attack that’s been simmering below the surface. He stares at Charlie as tears spring to his eyes, suffocating feeling building rapidly as he struggles to breathe, and before he knows what’s happening Charlie is turning off the stove and guiding him to the couch. He’s muttering something Dennis can’t make out over his loud, shallow breathing, but Dennis can tell he’s uncomfortable.

He hears Charlie telling him to breathe, using a similar method that Dennis uses with him when he’s freaking out, breathing deeply and forcing Dennis to mimic him.

It takes several long minutes, but he finally calms down, and Charlie’s hands drop from his shoulders. Dennis hadn’t even realized they were there.

“You good?” Charlie asks quietly.

Dennis looks at him, and the familiarity of Charlie’s apartment and of Charlie himself is like a tranquilizer, soothing him considerably.

“Yeah,” he breathes. Charlie stands and digs around in his bathroom until he finds a mostly clean roll of toilet paper, and hands it to Dennis. Dennis smiles tightly at the gesture, and tears off a piece to wipe at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mutters to Charlie, who’s awkwardly hovering, seemingly torn between sitting down and pacing.

“It’s cool, dude,” Charlie says. “You uh… wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Dennis answers truthfully.  
  
Charlie nods, looking relieved. “Okay but… you didn’t hurt yourself again, did you?”

Dennis’ stomach drops, hands closing into fists to hide the bandage he still has on his right palm. The cut is taking a long time to heal; he wonders if Charlie has already noticed it.

“No,” he says, looking at his knees. “No, nothing like that. Mac is just… pissed at me.”

Charlie snorts. “He’s always pissed at you. He’ll get over it.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he will this time.”

Charlie looks at him oddly.

“I thought you guys were like, in love or whatever, why wouldn’t he get over it?”  
  
“ _We’re_ not in love, Charlie, _he’s_ the one that —“  
  
“Dennis, come on,” Charlie says, eyebrows raised.

And Dennis… comes up blank. He’s pretty sure that if he hadn’t already put his body through one panic attack already less than ten minutes ago, he’d be having another full blown one right now.

“It’s — whatever, okay,” he blusters after a moment, shoving it down deep and moving past it as quickly as he can. “The point is, he’s really pissed, and he won’t even talk to me so we’re… done.”

“You’re ‘done’?” Charlie repeats disbelievingly. “Because of one argument? Jesus dude, you’re so dramatic.”  
  
“I’m not _dramatic_ , Charlie, I’m _pragmatic_. He said he didn’t want to be around me, what else could that mean?”

“Dude, you don’t think he meant forever, do you?” Charlie says, sounding as though he’s on the verge of laughing at Dennis. “Dennis you _left_ , right, and he was like, miserable. For _months_.” Dennis’ stomach flips uncomfortably, but he doesn’t interrupt. “And then you came back, and he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even mad at you. He’s not going to like, end your ‘relationship’, or friendship, or whatever you wanna call it because of — whatever happened.”

Dennis again has nothing to say. He supposes that Charlie is probably right, and that he’s overreacting, but he’d rather die than admit that.  
  
“So, will you figure it out? Because like, you’re my friend and I’m here for you and shit, but you’re driving me crazy dude.”

There’s no real bitterness in his voice, but Dennis can tell he means it. It occurs to him as Charlie turns his attention back to the stove that Mac has never complained about spending time with him the entire time they’ve known each other. He nurses his beer and focuses on the wrestling match on TV, not entirely sure what to do with this information.

 

*

 

He doesn’t figure it out. Several more days pass with Mac ignoring him, speaking to him only when necessary at work, and Dennis is out of energy to push it any more. Dee and Charlie watch him closely any time they’re all together, and make annoying little gestures towards Mac behind his back, but he can’t bring himself to be rejected by him for the eighty-seventh time in three weeks.

Unfortunately, this results in Dee and Charlie burrowing even further into his business and taking it upon themselves to fix it.

He walks into Paddy’s one day, and is first struck by how empty it is. He’s late; the rest of the gang should be there already. He’s heading to the office to check for them when he notices there are two tables set at the end of the bar. He gets closer, and sees a familiar white poster board balanced on the column near the pool table.

**TRIAL METER**

FOR ~~FRANK~~  MAC     FOR DENNIS  


“No,” he says under his breath. “No no no no no _no_ , what is —“  
  
He wheels around wildly, but of course he finds no one to question.

The front door swings open and Mac walks in, and freezes when he sees Dennis standing in a cold sweat in the middle of the room.

“Uh, what are you —“ Mac starts, paling once he catches sight of the board.

“Dennis, what the fuck is this?“  
  
His heart seizes a little, noting absently this is the first time Mac has said his name in weeks.

“I don’t know,” Dennis says weakly. “I just walked in and it was here —“  
  
“Fuck this, I’m leaving,” Mac says, turning on his heel towards the exit. Dennis is about to follow suit, but suddenly Charlie is there, pulling his arm back, and Dee and Frank appear from the basement to block Mac’s exit.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere, we have some matters to settle,” Frank says, he and Dee pushing and bullying Mac back towards the poster. “Take a seat, gentlemen.”  
  
“No,” Dennis argues, yanking his arm from Charlie only to have him grab it again and force him into the seat closest to them. Mac manages to throw off Dee and Frank and makes a break for the back door, but when he pushes it it doesn’t budge.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” Mac asks darkly, face pinched and furious as he wiggles the doorknob and pounds on the door futilely. 

“We’re on lockdown until this matter is resolved, so get comfortable,” Charlie answers, shuffling behind the bar and returning with another poster board. He’s wearing his lawyer outfit, complete with the glasses and tie, and Dennis is finding it harder to breathe.  
  
“Look, whatever this is, it’s a waste of time,” Dennis tries. He stands up, and feels Dee’s hands on his shoulder pushing him back down. “This has nothing to do with any of you —“  
  
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Reynolds,” Dee says contemptuously. He breathes heavily through his nose as she makes her way to the center of the two tables. He glares as she and Charlie stand together, Frank still trying to force Mac into the seat near the juke box at the opposite table. “See, this little spat between you two has negatively affected my life, in that Mac won’t leave my apartment and is interfering in my relationship.”  
  
“I’m not interfering!“  
  
“You’ve third wheeled at least nine dates, Mac. _Second_ ,” she continues loudly over Mac’s wordless objections, “Dennis you have been drinking yourself to an early grave, and trying to take care of you has also interfered with my relationship, and my life in general.”

He feels Mac’s eyes on him as he scowls at Dee, thinking of the bottle in his cabinet. He still hasn’t touched them, but he’s overly aware of the bottle every time he’s in the bathroom, prickling like a burn on his skin.   
  
“No one _asked_ you to butt in, Deandra,” he replies slowly.

“Well I’m certainly not going to give any of _them_ reason to blame me when you die,” she replies, waving at the other three vaguely, “so _yes_ , I did have to butt in, dickswab.”

“And you two not talking has affected the gang as a whole, in that our M&M scheme last week was a bust,” Charlie interjects.

“That was never going to work,” Mac says. Dennis chances a glance at him; he’s slouched in his chair, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“It would have worked!” Charlie shrieks. “If you and Dennis would have just sucked it up and been on the extraction team together!“

“Jesus Christ,” Dennis mutters. “It doesn’t matter, you’re not gonna get Mac to talk, the stubborn jackass has ignored me for weeks.”  
  
“ _I’m_ the jackass? Wow, Dennis —“  
  
“Hey hey, save it for your testimonies,” Charlie interrupts. Mac is upright again and glaring at him, and its the most he’s looked at him since the day he left the apartment.  
  
“Alright, fine,” Dennis says, suddenly very eager for any chance to make Mac see reason. His eyes are still on Mac as he continues. “Dee, what’s our strategy?”

“Not so fast,” Charlie says, fiddling with the board still in his hands. “First, we have to establish the subject matter jurisdiction.“  
  
“The _what_? Charlie, that’s not how you use that —“  
  
“The subject of today’s trial,” Charlie steamrolls over Dennis, turning around and setting the board on an easel, “is as such, as is labeled on this here evidence chart.”  
  
“Charlie, what are you _talking_ about?” Mac asks, then goes still as he sees the board. Dennis turns his attention to it as well, and he swears his stomach falls right out of his ass.

DOEZ DENISS LUV MACCK ? ???

It’s accompanied by lots of childish drawings of hearts and what seem to be stick figures in their likeness kissing and holding hands.

“Yeah, we left Charlie in charge of the board,” Dee says offhandedly as Mac and Dennis gape at it. “I now realize in hindsight that was probably a bad idea.”  
  
“What — this is not what we’re —“ Dennis stammers, heart pounding in his throat, so tight he can barely get the words out. He’s having trouble thinking straight through the ringing in his ears.

“ _Objection_!” Mac cries, looking as panicked as Dennis feels. “I’ve never said I think Dennis is into me —“

“Yes, Dennis, this _is_ what we’re arbitrating,” Dee says loudly over Mac, handing Dennis a glass of water. He slaps it out of her hands, and water cascades onto the floor. Dee rolls her eyes, not even bothering to pick it up. “We aren’t going to waste time listening to your bullshit when this is what your stupid fight really comes down to. And Mac, you didn’t have to say it, we all _know_ that’s what’s been eating you, dumbass.”  
  
“Also, I’m pretty sure you’ve said it like, tons of times,” Charlie adds.

“Bullshit! Name one, bro —“  
  
Dennis zones out as he and Charlie bicker for the next few minutes, face caught somewhere between a gape and a glare at Dee as she moves to the trial meter board. Frank eventually intervenes and shuts up Charlie and Mac. He refuses to look at Mac, but can feel him looking his direction again once the room is quiet.

“Now, I happened to be present on the night that this incident occurred, so I will be taking on the role of the impartial judge.”

“ _Impartial_? You’ve been living with Mac since that night, letting him fill your head with _his_ side of the story —“  
  
“And you’re her _brother_ ,” Mac interrupts. Dennis can’t stop himself from looking at him then.

“Exactly, there’s no way you can be impartial Dee. If we have to have a goddamn judge, it should be Frank.”  
  
“Oh no, I’m not gonna be the one to rule on this,” Frank says, holding up his hands. “I ain’t getting involved, this is either gonna end with you two screwing or killing each other, and I don’t wanna be a part of either.”  
  
“Then what are you doing here?” Mac asks, voice high and breathy the way it gets when his irritation reaches its peak.

Frank shrugs. “It’s snowing, I had nothing else to do today.” He helps himself to a beer and pulls a bag of pork rinds from somewhere behind the bar, then makes himself comfortable in a stool situated behind the tables, as if he’s in the gallery.

“Goddammit, can we — let’s just get this over with, please,” Dennis begs, face falling into his hands.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Dee says. “Charlie will be representing both of you.”  
  
“ _That’s_ a conflict of interest,” Dennis says. “Why don’t we just represent ourselves?”  
  
“Because we’ll be here for two days if we wait for you to get your heads out of your asses and actually talk to each other,” Dee says smoothly. “And if we just give you free reign you’ll end up killing each other, we need at least some semblance of civility here.”

Dennis has no argument for that, so he stays quiet, as does Mac.

Dee flips a coin to see who starts; Dennis wins calling heads.

“Alright, let’s begin Mr. Reynolds,” Charlie says importantly, sitting next to him with a legal pad and pencil that is littered with crude drawings Dennis doesn’t even try to make sense of. “Are there any witnesses you’d like to call in your defense?”

“What am I defending, exactly?”

Charlie laughs, pointing to the board. “Whether or not you are in love with my client, Mr. McDonald.”

“ _I’m_ your client,” Dennis argues, ignoring the blush he feels rising on his cheeks.

“Irregardless, that is the matter at hand,” Charlie says, scribbling nonsense on his notepad.

Dennis counts to ten, then does it again as his irritation builds. Charlie stands and starts to pace in front of Dennis’ table.

“Now, let’s begin with the basics Mr. Reynolds. Now, you claim to be straight, is that right?”

He keeps his gaze fixed on Charlie, but he sees Mac stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

“Objection,” Mac calls again nervously, and that one word sends Dennis spiraling before they’ve even begun. He snaps his head in Mac’s direction, sees the panic in his face as he extends his raised hand towards Charlie, coming out of his seat a little. He’s distressed _for_ Dennis, still trying to protect him despite everything, and it makes Dennis’ chest ache and his head swim. He’s pretty sure he could cry if the rest of the gang weren’t here.

Mac doesn’t seem to have a follow up to his objection, however. Dennis can tell he’s trying not to look at him lest he give everything away.

“Yes, Mr. McDonald?” Charlie asks.

Mac’s hand wavers as he lowers it. “I — relevance! His sexuality isn’t relevant to whether or not he — to this case.” He shifts awkwardly, falling back into his seat with a soft thump.  
  
“Overruled, it _is_ relevant.”  
  
“You’re not the judge, you can’t overrule it!” Mac argues. “Dee?”

Dee looks between Mac and Dennis quickly before focusing her attention on Dennis. His heart is in his throat again as he nods minutely at her. No point dragging it out when half of the gang already know anyway.

“Overruled,” Dee agrees. “Answer the question Mr. Reynolds.”

He’s extremely thankful Frank is behind him as he takes a deep breath, bracing himself.

“That… _was_ right, however I no longer — claim that fact,” Dennis says, staring hard at the table. “I’m — not straight.” He finds he still can’t quite say those words aloud, but it’s good enough, and he feels a little lighter as the statement settles in the air.

“Fair enough,” Charlie is saying, completely unfazed, when he looks up. His eyes find Mac’s; he can’t read what he sees on his face, but maintains his gaze for a few moments before turning his attention back to Charlie. He doesn’t spare Frank a glance, finds he doesn’t give a shit what he thinks after all.

“So then, Mr. Reynolds, you _would_ be capable of developing romantic type feelings for Mr. McDonald, is that fair to say?”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” Dennis agrees, cheeks heating up again.

“Right, so now what is your evidence to the contrary?”

“My — what?”  
  
“Your evidence for _not_ being in love with Mr. McDonald?” Charlie clarifies. Dee is smirking from her place next to the trial meter board.

“I don’t — what do you mean _evidence_? What evidence _would_ I even —?”

“Do you mean to say, Mr. Reynolds, that you did _not_ prepare any evidence in this matter?”

“Prepare — goddammit Charlie, I just found out about this five minutes ago!” he cries.

“Yes, but if you do not have romantic type feelings for him as you claim, _surely_ coming up with evidence in your favor would be easy.”

“I — you’re supposed to be _my_ lawyer, I’m not on trial here!”

“I mean, you kind of are Dennis,” Dee interjects, pointing to Charlie’s board. Dennis’ hands clench in his hair in frustration.

“Goddammit, this is — ludicrous, what are we _doing_ here?”

“Your Honor,” Charlie says to Dee, ignoring Dennis’ question. He chances a glance at Mac; he’s frowning at his hands. “If the defendant has no evidence —“  
  
“ _Defendant_?”

“—to support his claim, I move for a mistrial.”

“Wait,” Dennis blurts, grasping at any straw he can reach. “Wait, I — I would like to call a witness for questioning.”

Dee and Charlie look at each other for a moment, considering. Dee inclines her head eventually.

“Very well, who is your witness?”

Dennis inhales sharply.

“Mac.”

There’s only five of them in the room, but still a hush falls over them.

“Dennis,” Mac says warningly. He looks over, and Mac’s expression is icy. “Don’t.”

“Please take a seat in the witness chair, Mr. McDonald,” Dennis says, standing and gesturing for him to sit on the stool next to the column.

Mac looks around at the rest of the gang for help, but none of them save him. He finally rolls his eyes angrily and stands, aggressively pushing his chair back as he does so and crossing his arms defensively the moment he’s sitting in the stool.

“Thank you,” Dennis says graciously. Mac won’t meet his eyes.

“Now Mr. McDonald,” Dennis says, voice only shaking slightly as he starts. “Have I ever told you that I — love you?”

“Yes,” Mac answers immediately, voice clipped.

“More than once?”

Mac looks at him then, face hard. “No.”

“Would you please explain the circumstances under which I told you I loved you?” Dennis requests, willing the blood pooling in his cheeks to settle literally anywhere else.

Mac looks at him for a long moment before answering.  
  
“It was after the cruise ship sank,” Mac responds quietly. “Before we talked to the insurance guy. You — you hugged me before the rest of the gang met up with us, and said you loved me.”

Dennis nods, not breaking his gaze, blushing all the way down to his bones now.

“Exactly,” Dennis says, voice a little hoarse. “So it was after a near death experience. You’ll recall I also told Dee that I loved her that night.”  
  
“Yeah, I remember.”

“And at the time, did you think it was a confession of romantic love?”

Mac doesn’t answer. Dennis’ heart flits all around his chest and throat as he and Mac stare at each other.

“Mr. McDonald?” he presses.

“I did,” Mac finally says, voice soft, and Dennis stops short.

“You — you did?” he repeats weakly.

Dee, Charlie, and Frank are all silent for once. Dennis looks around at their enraptured faces.

“I did, until I saw you do the same thing to Charlie ten minutes later,” Mac continues, looking at the floor.

Dennis thinks back and remembers how Mac went immediately back into the closet after that, wonders if he would have stayed out if he thought Dennis had meant it the way he wanted him to. He swallows hard, regretting this tactic and wanting to end this line of questioning immediately.

“Um,” he says, coughing and shaking his head slightly. “And — and have I ever said it since?”

“No,” Mac answers.  
  
“No,” Dennis repeats. “And due to — certain other facts, which everyone here is aware of so I will _not_ repeat — I would have no reason not to admit my feelings for you should they exist, correct?”

Mac frowns and thinks that over for a minute.

“Uh, I guess.”

“Thank you, no further questions.”

He barrels back to his seat, wishing he’d had the foresight to grab a beer before sitting down. He adjusts his shirt for something to do with his hands, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“What about high school?”

Mac’s voice drifts through the ringing in his ears, quiet but assertive. He feels himself go rigid.

“What about it?” he says just as quietly, hint of warning in his tone. 

“Why did you kiss me in high school?” Mac asks, and all the blood finally drains from Dennis’ face and pools somewhere in his stomach based on the way it’s curdling.

“Objection!” Dennis cries desperately, standing and pointing at Mac. “He’s — the witness isn’t supposed to question —“  
  
“Overruled,” Charlie and Dee say at the same time. Dennis gawks angrily at them.

“Mac, you _asshole_ ,” Dennis snarls.

“ _I’m_ the asshole? Answer the question, why did you kiss me if you hate me so goddamn much? _You_ told me that kiss meant something to you, why are you pretending it never happened?”

He’s yelling now, breathing heavily, face flushed.

“I’m not trying to pretend it never happened! _I_ brought it up, if you recall. And I didn’t hate you when it happened!”

“But you hate me now?”

“Yes, of course I do!” Mac doesn’t even flinch, and that digs into Dennis like a thorn. Mac has forced open a gate in him, left it crumbling to dust, and he keeps yelling before he can stop himself.

“And you wanna know why?” he seethes. A shadow passes over Mac’s face, but he keeps his mouth shut. “Yeah, you’re like — like a goddamn ear worm, Mac, you say all that annoying shit about being in love with me, and then go on with your life, dating and shit like I’m not thinking about it all the goddamn time! And then — then you leave, and you don’t talk to me for weeks or let me explain, acting like a _baby_ , Mac, a goddamn child. _And_ you destroyed my car, dude, before I had even _left_ , and you didn’t even try and stop me, none of you assholes did, but _Mac_ —“

He cuts himself off harshly, turning away from Mac and covering his face with his hands. He breathes deeply, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

Charlie whistles after a minute, breaking the tension.

“I’d uh — like to call Dennis to the stand,” he says. Dennis whips around to stare at him incredulously.

“Are you kidding me? No, this is over Charlie.”  
  
“Uh, I’m the only one who can overturn the lockdown.”  
  
“Charlie, I swear to _god_ —“  
  
“Okay okay, recess,” Dee calls, holding her hands out between them before Dennis can threaten Charlie within an inch of his life. Mac immediately storms towards the bathroom, Frank following shortly after. “Dennis, come with me.”  
  
“Fuck off, Dee,” Dennis says, falling heavily into his chair.

“Fine, then we’ll talk here,” she says, coming to sit next to him. “Charlie, go get everyone a beer.”

He obeys, leaving Dee and Dennis alone.

“Dennis, you’re not going to do well on the cross examine,” Dee says seriously. Dennis rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts.

“You’re taking this way too seriously Dee,” he sighs. “You all are, this is _absurd_.”

Dee laughs shortly. “Okay, I’m not the one that just had a breakdown.”  
  
“I didn’t —“  
  
“Dennis shut up. Look just — talk to Mac. As much as I’d like to see Charlie embarrass the shit out of you even more, I’m giving you a chance to get out of here with your dignity. You’re really dragging the Reynolds name through the mud here.”

“No, I’m not scared of him, what the hell is _Charlie_ going to say that could embarrass me?”

Dee looks at him in disbelief for a long moment before laughing again and shaking her head.

“Whatever boner, I tried.”

Charlie hands Dennis and Dee a beer, and he chugs half of it in one sitting.

 

 

“Alright Mr. Reynolds, let’s try and keep this short. We’re all _tired_ , alright, we don’t wanna _drag_ this process out longer than it needs to be. We all have kids and cats we’d like to get home to, so it’ll be easiest if you just cooperate.”

Dennis rolls his eyes hard from his spot on the witness stool, hands clenched tight around his second beer. 

“Oh Jesus,” Dee mutters.

“Is this your idea of keeping it short?” Dennis asks dryly.

“Now I don’t want to bring up ancient history, so let’s just start with your recent claims, shall we? Now, you claim to hate my client, Mr. McDonald,” Charlie continues, gesturing over at Mac, who is again slouched in his seat with his arms crossed. _Pouting_ , Dennis thinks. “And yet, in the same outburst, you say that you thought about his confession uh…” he squints at his notepad full of gibberish, ”’all the goddamn time’. Is this accurate?”

“Well, yes, but —“  
  
“And is it also accurate to say, as was revealed in previous testimony, that you were upset that he didn’t stop you from moving to another state?”

Mac shifts in his seat and looks away, staring at the door to the alley longingly.

“I — I mean I was upset that _none_ of you did, I guess,” he admits, staring hard at the bottle in his hand.  
  
“But you seemed particularly upset with my client for not trying to stop you,” Charlie pushes.

“Sure, fine,” Dennis concedes, twisting the beer bottle around in his hands and grinding his teeth.

“And is it not true that you were trying to _woo_ my client by taking him to The Rainbow?”

“What?” Dennis asks, head snapping up. “No, we were — _no_!”  
  
“Mr. Reynolds I have a witness who claims to have seen you and Mr. McDonald at such a place three weeks ago.”  
  
His neck cricks painfully as he whips around to glare at Dee.

“Objection! She’s not a witness, she’s a judge, that’s a — a conflict, she can’t —“  
  
“Overruled,” Dee says smugly.

“Goddammit Dee!”

“You told Charlie? Dee you _bitch_ ,” Mac adds, also glowering at Dee from the other side of the room.

“Woohoo this is getting good, I need another bag of cracklins, wait one sec,” Frank says, speaking for the first time in awhile. He traipses off to the office, but Charlie keeps going despite his absence.

“Now Mr. Reynolds, my witness claims to have seen you and Mr. McDonald dancing rather suggestively at this club.”  
  
Mac swears again, dropping his head into his hands and muttering to himself. Dennis is sweating, stomach permanently lodged somewhere in the region of his ass. Frank shuffles back into the room, bag crinkling obnoxiously as he takes his seat again and rips into the pork rinds.

“Why would you dance with him in this way if not to woo him, Mr. Reynolds?”  
  
“I — I was trying to hook up with someone else, Mac was my — my wingman,” Dennis stammers. Mac lifts his head and nods.

“Yeah, he asked —“  
  
“Silence in the courtroom please, you are not on the stand Mr. McDonald!” Charlie shrieks.

Mac looks murderous as Charlie shushes him, holding a hand towards him dismissively.

“He was your wingman, you say?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, he’d — he helped me make an… online dating profile,” Dennis adds, looking away and adjusting his shirt again.  
  
“What kind of profile, Mr. Reynolds?” Charlie probes, and for the first time there’s a hint of derisive laughter in his voice. Dennis glares, swearing vengeance in his mind and plotting at least ten ways to humiliate Charlie and Dee once this is over before answering.

“Grindr,” he mumbles at last.  
  
“Oh, Grindr, of course,” Charlie says, and he’s definitely enjoying himself now. “I’d like to submit into evidence Dennis Reynold’s Grindr profile.”  
  
“Oh come on, that’s an invasion of — I do not authorize this submission!” Dennis cries.

“Well, you should have thought of that before leaving your phone out where anyone could just take it, dickbrain,” Dee drawls, holding Dennis’ phone up and showing it off to the room.

“You _bitch_ , give it back.” He reaches for it, but even though Dee is sitting on a stool close to him she holds it far out of reach with her long gangly arms. She jumps out of her seat and swiftly enters his passcode, swiping through it looking for the Grindr app. He doesn’t even have time to demand how she knew his passcode before she has the app open.

“Your Honor, would you mind describing Mr. Reynold’s profile?”

Dee snickers in response. “Well there’s not much to describe. He’s only filled out a third of it, only getting as far as ‘body type’. There’s no picture, and he hasn’t responded to _any_ messages. Last login was three weeks and three days ago,” she finishes, mouth curled into a smirk.

“Interesting,” Charlie says. Dennis yanks his phone back from Dee’s outstretched hand. He opens his settings immediately to change his passcode.

“How is that interesting?” Mac asks, eyebrows creased a little.

“It’s not, what are we even _talking_ about,” Dennis interrupts. “So what if I didn’t use Grindr, I’ve _never_ used that kind of shit, if you remember. I prefer to meet potential dates in person, like a normal human.”

“Bingo!” Charlie cries triumphantly. “You’ve just made my case Mr. Reynolds.”  
  
“ _How_?”

“Well it occurs to me, Mr. Reynolds, that you only made this profile to make Mr. McDonald jealous,” Charlie says, grinning as Dennis pales. “That you never intended to use it, but wanted Mr. McDonald to think you were. Is that correct?”

“What — that’s _ridiculous_ , Charlie —“  
  
“Judge, I would like to rule on this matter. It is the opinion of this counselor that Mr. McDonald is the winner, all those in favor —“  
  
“Wait, I never _said_ —“ Mac interrupts, just as Dennis stand and explodes next to him.  
  
“What about _my_ side, you imbecile —“  
  
“You had your chance to speak Mr. Reynolds!” Charlie yells over Mac and Dennis’ protests. “If you like, I can go further back than the last three weeks, we have eons of evidence at our disposition!”

He doesn’t even bother to correct Charlie’s malapropism, too busy shaking with fury and trying hard not to chuck his bottle at Charlie’s head. 

“Would you like to continue, Mr. Reynolds?” Charlie asks, removing his glasses and raising an eyebrow at him mockingly.

He looks around at Dee, who’s grinning, and Frank, who’s shoving pork rinds in his mouth and watching the four of them closely. He lands on Mac, expression unreadable as he watches Dennis.

He drops the bottle. It clatters noisily as he turns and strides into the office as quickly as he can, slamming the door behind him.

 

 

He’s balancing carefully on the chair, unscrewing the last screw holding the vent cover in place when the door creaks open.

“You trying to escape through the vents?”

Dennis sighs and turns to see Mac watching him with an amused look on his face. It’s infuriating.  
  
“You won’t fit dude, only Charlie and Frank can move around in there,” Mac adds. Dennis knows he’s speaking from experience, vividly remembers having to call the fire department the last time Mac tried to crawl through the vents.

Dennis doesn’t answer. He carefully crawls down from the chair as Mac moves to stand in front of the desk.

“So what, you here to gloat?” Dennis asks once he’s on the floor facing him, crossing his arms and studiously avoiding Mac’s eyes, focusing on a spot over his shoulder.  
  
“No. They sent me in here to see if you were trying to escape.” He gestures to the chair and the half open vent. “And if not, they wanna know if you’re gonna continue with the trial.”

His eyes flick back to his face. He still can’t read Mac. He doesn’t seem smug, or angry, but he’s just… closed off, like he’s wearing a mask.

“Mac look, I — this isn’t how I wanted this to —“ he falters a little and steps closer. “I know that was all kind of… rough —“

Mac snorts irritatingly, but Dennis doesn’t rise to it, just makes himself continue, otherwise he’ll never spit it out.

“But if we go back out there, things are going to become pretty clear that I — that —“ he coughs, words sticking in his throat. “That… they’re…right.”

It’s the best he can do. His face is on fire, and he’s biting his lip raw, but Mac’s expression remains immovable.

“They’re right,” Mac repeats flatly.  
  
“Yes,” he says tightly, studying his feet scuffing floor. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

Dennis looks up, and sees a ghost of a smile creaking Mac’s face.

“Don’t.”

Mac’s expression breaks, eyes crinkling the way Dennis has decided he loves as he smirks.

“Make you say, what?”

“Goddammit Mac, _don’t_ —“

“But I don’t understand. Say _what_ , Dennis?”

He’s fully smiling now, voice cocky and teasing, and Dennis hates him so much. He’s torn between slapping him and driving his knee into his dick.

He kisses him instead. Mac grunts as his back hits the edge of the desk, Dennis’ mouth biting hot and angry. He waits for Mac to push him off, to storm out and never speak to him again, but he doesn’t. He matches Dennis’ pace, hands coming up to cup Dennis’ face. Dennis nips at his bottom lip and feels Mac’s tongue soothe over it, runs his own tongue against it, and Mac groans. Dennis’ hands grip Mac’s hips, move under his shirt, fingers sparking as he runs them over the hard ripples in Mac’s back.

They break apart to breathe, Dennis leaning his forehead against Mac’s, hands still skimming over his skin as Mac’s caress his jaw.

“Do you believe me now?” Dennis says breathlessly.

“No,” Mac answers. Dennis jerks back, though not far enough to make Mac stop touching him.

“ _No_? I — you do know that I just kissed you, right?”

Mac rolls his eyes. “Yeah I got that. And, okay, I mostly believe you, but you’re definitely full of shit about some of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the stuff about you having feelings for me.”

Dennis stares, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s like… that’s the whole thing, Mac.”  
  
“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Mac says, as if he’s the one making sense here. “But it just kinda seems like you’re trying to get out of the rest of questioning though. I mean, you just told me you hated me like, four times in a row, dude.”

Dennis scoffs, ignoring Mac’s whine when he pulls his hands from under Mac’s shirt.

“Okay… _fair_ , but I didn’t _mean_ —“  
  
“So why should I believe you?”

“Because I — I _kissed_ you! I just said — do you want to spend another three hours out there? Because I’ll do it, I’ll let Charlie question me again, and you’ll look stupid as shit.“

Mac smiles, bright and a little smug, and it makes Dennis’ head feel warm and hazy even once he realizes that Mac is fucking with him.

“Nah, it’s cool,” Mac says, stepping closer and running his hands back up to cup Dennis’ face. “I can read between the lines. And as long as I get to do this —“

He kisses Dennis softly, lips just barely pressing against his, and Dennis forgets what he was going to say.

“— we can just let it go.” 

Dennis runs his hands over his biceps, several responses on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them all and just lets himself touch. Mac’s hands are still on his neck, thumbs grazing over his collarbones. Mac kisses him again, drowning anything Dennis might’ve tried to say, all of the things they should probably talk about.

They’re interrupted by Charlie banging open the door. Dennis only blushes a little as Mac refuses to let him go, letting one arm wrap around his waist when Dennis turns to look at Charlie.

“Oh, you made up?” Charlie asks. “Guess we don’t need this.”

He brandishes it proudly; it’s Mac’s Science Is A Liar Sometimes poster, but with Science crossed out and replaced with Dennis’ name. There’s also cut outs of Dennis’ face in the place of Aristotle, Galileo, and Newton with the garish red BITCH signs overlaying it.

“Dude, you ruined my sign!” Mac whines, then stifles a laugh when he catches sight of Dennis’ face.

“It was Dee’s idea,” Charlie says quickly, backing out of the bathroom before Dennis manages to detangle himself from Mac.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: I rewrote the last scene like 4 times before settling on this ending so like, hopefully it doesn’t seem super disjointed and weird or anything :/ I went back and forth like 10 times on if I was going to end it angsty again or happyish, but I think this will lead into the next chapter much better  
> another fun fact, the trial scene was initially like, even longer if you can even imagine and I had to cut it way down bc it was getting rambly and way out of hand lmao. I was maybe….really delirious on cold medicine when I wrote it rip. but it at least gave me a good excuse to watch the cereal defense 3 times in a row.  
> anyway we’re in the homestretch my loves!! I think there’s going to be one more chapter, and then maybe an epilogue to wrap this bad boy up. thanks for your patience and sweet words over the holidays here and on tumblr, I hope everyones were lovely and that you enjoy this chapter!  
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @hyruling, love u all! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis knows it’s just Frank’s way of screwing with them now that his and Mac’s feelings have been embarrassingly laid bare for everyone to see. When he complains to Dee, she assures him as condescendingly as possible that literally everyone other than he and Mac already knew anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright this is where we tenderly earn our explicit rating lads xo

Charlie eventually lets them out of the lockdown around nine. They couldn’t even stay in the back and make out until then, because Frank uses the lockdown as an opportunity to force them to do inventory for the first time in more months than Dennis can remember. It’s a bullshit job, and Dennis knows it’s just Frank’s way of screwing with them now that his and Mac’s feelings have been embarrassingly laid bare for everyone to see. When he complains to Dee, she assures him as condescendingly as possible that literally everyone other than he and Mac already knew anyway. He responds by knocking the container of limes she’d been painstakingly counting to the ground and ignoring her when she screeches at him to clean it up.

Mac flits around him like a fruit fly all night, never staying close for very long but still running his hand along Dennis’ arm as he reaches for a box in the storage room, or pressing against him as they count vodka bottles. Every touch sends a spark through Dennis’ entire body, and almost as soon as he cools down Mac will touch him again, igniting his veins with the even the subtlest touch. He might lose his mind before he even gets to kiss him again, because the other three never leave them alone long enough to do more than graze each others arm or back.

So they leave the moment Charlie undoes whatever he did to lock them in, despite it being hours before close. The second the door is unlocked, Dennis grabs Mac’s arm and drags him to the exit. Mac flips the bird to the other three over his shoulder when they try to bitch at them for leaving early. Dennis yells over the cacophony of five voices shouting over each other as he pulls Mac along, screaming obscenities at them for keeping them locked in the bar for over eight hours.

He barely remembers the drive, practically vibrating with anticipation the entire way home. He has to slam on his breaks more than once because he’s so distracted by Mac’s goddamn arm, bare and resting mere inches from his on the center console.

When they finally get into the apartment, Mac drops all pretenses of his previous confidence and hovers awkwardly in the living room, wringing his hands anxiously. He’s no longer smug now that he’s not driving Dennis crazy with his little touches. He runs a hand down his pants before clasping them together again, anxious energy oozing from his every pore. Dennis can’t help but smile at the sight of him as he finishes locking the door.

“Hey,” he says, sidling slowly into the living area.  
  
“Hey,” Mac replies shakily.

“So… what’s up?” he asks, nodding at Mac’s restless hands.

“Don’t be a dick,” Mac retorts.

Dennis inches closer, enjoying the way Mac bites his lip, eyes half lidded as he watches Dennis.

“What’s going on?” Dennis asks again. He can’t stand the nervous way Mac is still twisting his hands together now that he’s teased him. He reaches out and takes Mac’s hands to still them.

Mac leans into him the moment he does, resting his head in the crook of Dennis’ shoulder. It’s oddly intimate, holding his hands as he just breathes in Dennis’ neck, and he finds he’s holding his breath.

“Mac?”

Mac lets go of his hands and instead wraps them around Dennis’ waist. His mouth starts moving against Dennis’ neck, trailing light kisses up to his jaw. Dennis’ breath hitches just before he reaches his mouth.

Mac kisses him slow, slotting their lips together and licking into Dennis’ mouth. Dennis sighs into it. He’s needed this for hours now, and the relief is sharp, like taking the first breath of air after being underwater for too long. His hands tangle in Mac’s hair, and he feels Mac’s tighten against his back. 

Mac pulls away, and they breathe heavily together. He still looks nervous when he speaks.

“We uh — we can take this slow you know,” Mac says, though Dennis can feel the way he can’t keep his hands from running up and down Dennis’ back, unsubtly pulling him in closer as he does so. “You know, since you’ve never, um… banged a dude.”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Way to kill the moment.”  
  
“I’m just trying to be considerate,” Mac argues, pink peppering his cheeks. His hands come to settle on Dennis’ hips, and he leans into it when Dennis cups his face in his hands, thumbing over his feverish blush. Mac grins at him, all lopsided and warm, and Dennis knows deep in his core that Mac would be true to his word if that’s what Dennis wanted. He would wait as long as he needed, and be happy with whatever Dennis gave him. The knowledge of that aches in his chest, affection coursing through him so strongly that it hurts.

He can’t say as much; the words catch in the back of his throat, the rest of his body aching for something else. He strokes his thumbs over Mac’s cheeks and jaw before settling on his shoulders.

“Well don’t.”

Mac looks at him questioningly for a moment before Dennis’ hands push him onto the couch roughly. He looks up at him, eyes wide as Dennis crawls onto his lap, gasping as Dennis’ mouth crashes into his. He feels Mac’s hands grip his thighs as Dennis straddles him, mouth moving fast against his, tongue running over the roof of Mac’s mouth.

Mac catches up eventually, meeting Dennis’ pace and kissing back just as fiercely. He’s painfully aware of the twenty years of build up to this moment, needing Mac to be closer, pressing against him so forcefully Mac is practically melding with the couch. Mac’s hands find his ass, haul him closer, apparently feeling the same itch.

“ _Mac_ ,” he sighs as they briefly catch their breath. Mac’s mouth captures his before Dennis can say more, lips and tongue still moving fast but a little softer now. He drinks it all in, skin sparking when Mac’s hands explore under his shirt, committing to memory the way Mac tastes and the sounds he makes when Dennis bites his bottom lip.

His hands trail down to tug off Mac’s shirt, huffing impatiently against his mouth when they have to break apart to pull it over his head. Mac pulls Dennis’ off as soon as he’s free of his, and they exhale sharply when their chests slide together. Dennis’ hands are everywhere, running over every muscle, every freckle.  
  
“Jesus Mac,” he breathes as he marvels at the miles of skin and muscle under his hands.

Mac’s hands are restless too. Dennis hisses as his thumbs brush over his nipples, arching even further against Mac as he does it again.

Mac smirks and licks a stripe up his neck, settling on a sensitive spot right under his jaw and sucking. Dennis jerks, and the movement presses his crotch into Mac’s. He’s already hard; Mac must be too, because he tears away from his neck to moan as their cocks press against each other through the layers of fabric.

Dennis grinds into him again, panting and muttering helplessly.

“Fuck, Mac,” he’s saying as Mac arches up into him and latches onto his neck again. “ _Fuck_ , I’m so — you feel so good baby.” Mac moans against his neck, and grabs Dennis’ face and pulls him in for a hard kiss.

“You like it when I call you that, baby boy?” Dennis whispers, his turn to smirk against his mouth.

“Shut up,” Mac gasps, kissing him again. Dennis reaches down and palms Mac through his jeans. Mac moans again, the sound vibrating all the way through to Dennis’ toes. He can’t get enough.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” Dennis babbles, increasing the pressure on Mac’s cock. Mac’s head falls back, mouth parted. Dennis has never seen anything so beautiful.

“You gotta — Dennis you have to slow down,” Mac pants, stilling Dennis’ hand with his own. “I’ve wanted — I’m gonna —“  
  
“Okay, okay,” Dennis hushes him. He grins and brushes a few stray hairs off Mac’s forehead. “We’ll need to work on your stamina apparently.”  
  
“Shut _up_ ,” Mac repeats. “I have so much stamina dude, but it’s —“  
  
He stops and hides his face in Dennis’ neck again, kissing his collarbone lightly.

“It’s what?” Dennis presses, squirming when Mac noses up and bites at his pulse.  
  
Mac lifts his head, and his cheeks are rosy as he answers.

“But it’s you,” he says simply.

He wants to laugh, or make fun of him, do anything to lighten the tension, but his throat is suddenly tight. He has no idea what his face looks like, but based on the reverent way Mac is gazing at him he can guess that it’s a similar expression. He can’t come up with a coherent response, so he leans in and presses his lips to Mac’s, hoping the gesture speaks for him.

Heat spreads liquid through his veins as Mac deepens the kiss, fingers playing with the waistband of Dennis’ jeans. He works his hands between them to work on Dennis’ button. He has it undone before Dennis can even process the proximity of Mac’s hand to his dick, and then Mac is reaching in and closing around it through his boxers. Dennis jerks against him, gasping harshly. Mac squeezes a little before working his hand under past the elastic.

“This okay?” Mac breathes.

He grinds against Mac’s hand in answer, crushing their mouths together again. He actually cries out when Mac’s hand closes around him, blushing furiously at how fucking easy he sounds. Mac seems to enjoy it though, smiling and kissing him over and over as he strokes him slowly.

“Mac, Mac, _fuck_ ,” he’s chanting, rutting against him. Mac speeds up, and then it’s Dennis that has to still him with a hand on his chest, feeling himself hurdle closer to the edge embarrassingly fast.

“Bed,” he gasps. Mac nods and removes his hand. He shifts forward and moves to stand, gathering Dennis more securely in his arms.

“Woah wait, what are you doing?” Dennis says just as Mac is tipping him forward so he can stand.

Mac grins at him for a brief moment before Dennis feels him grip his ass harder, and suddenly Mac is swinging him up, ignoring his repeated protests. His arms tighten around his neck, and then Mac is standing with Dennis’ legs wrapped around his waist.

“Show off,” Dennis mutters.

“You love it.” He smiles smugly and kisses him, then jerks back. “Oh, dude! This is just like that scene in _The Notebook_ , you know? The one in the rain, and she’s all ‘I waited for you for seven years’ —“

“You know way too much about that movie.”  
  
“ _Everyone_ knows that scene dude. Yeah, I’m Ryan Gosling, and you’re Rachel McAdams!”  
  
“Okay, no, put me down,” Dennis says, kicking uselessly at the air. But Mac has a tight grip on his ass, and Dennis doesn’t budge. He almost lets go of Mac’s neck to force him to drop him, but he’s not sure Mac’s reflexes would be quick enough to catch him before he crashed his head into the coffee table.

“No, it’s romantic.”  
  
“It’s not, you’re just being irritating, as usual. I should have known you’d be just as annoying during sex as you are every—“  
  
Mac kisses him to shut him up, maneuvering them around the couch as he does so, and Dennis decides that it is kind of hot. Mac’s been holding him for a few minutes and still doesn’t break a sweat. He even manages to keep kissing him as he walks without skipping a beat. He _does_ bump him into the doorframe accidentally. Dennis grunts a little, more out of excitement than pain, and immediately dives back in and kisses the apology off Mac’s lips. 

Mac drops him on the bed, and his head barely hits the pillow before he’s tugging off Dennis’ jeans and underwear. He takes a moment to stare at Dennis, breathing heavily and raking his eyes everywhere. Dennis squirms and blushes; Mac has seen him naked before, has even jerked off with him, but he’s never seen him this vulnerable. Or this hard. But based on Mac’s face, he seems to be enjoying the view.

“Come on,” Dennis whines, sitting up and reaching to undo Mac’s jeans. He swats Dennis’ hands away and does it himself, yanking them down and crawling onto the bed again. Dennis barely has a chance to give him a once over before Mac pushes him back into the pillows and settles on top of him. They both moan as their cocks slide together. Dennis’ head is thrown back as far as it can be with a pillow under him, and Mac attaches his lips to his throat, kissing down over his chest.

Dennis pulls him down flush against him, panting as he grinds their cocks together. Mac moans against his chest, pulling away briefly to catch his breath.

“What do you want?” Mac asks, nuzzling at Dennis’ pec before his mouth closes over a nipple.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dennis keens, uncontrollable and embarrassing, and Mac redoubles his efforts to take Dennis apart before they’ve even really started. Mac bites and licks and rolls his hips ceaselessly; he might die from how good it is.

“Dennis?” Mac murmurs. “What do you want?”

“Anything, fuck, stop talking and touch me,” Dennis gasps.

Mac pushes up and kisses him, and Dennis gets lost in the slick heat of his mouth, the slow drag of his cock against Mac’s for several minutes. It’s never been this good with anyone, and he knows it will never be like this with anyone else. Not that he has any intention to test that theory.

“Fuck me,” Dennis breathes against his mouth, hands threading through Mac’s hair.

He feels Mac’s dick jerk as he lets out a harsh breath, forehead dropping to rest against Dennis’.

“Are you sure?” Mac asks. “I mean, you’ve never, like…”

Dennis sighs, closing his eyes briefly before answering. He regrets the next words out of his mouth before he even says them.

“Yes I have Mac, will you just —“  
  
“You _have_?” Predictably, Mac lifts his head, frowning and looking jealous. “With _who_?”

“It — it doesn’t matter! Jesus, you don’t see me demanding a list of every dude you’ve ever fucked.”  
  
He rolls his hips and tightens his hands in Mac’s hair, smiling as Mac exhales sharply, momentarily distracted from his questioning.

“I still — wanna know,” Mac chokes, closing his eyes when one of Dennis’ hands travels down his torso, settling in the dip between his hip and thigh. He lets his hand wander closer to Mac’s cock, but Mac snags it before he gets there. He grabs his other wrist and pins them both to the bed next to his head.

Heat pools in his stomach, and Mac must see it in his face, because he leans down slowly and kisses and bites at a spot on Dennis’ neck he worked earlier. Dennis is making breathless little sounds as Mac’s mouth works, biting his lip in a useless effort to be quiet.

“I always thought you liked tying up _other_ people during sex,” Mac murmurs. “This is interesting.”  
  
“Not now Mac,” Dennis pants. Mac keeps working his neck, drawing more helpless sounds out of him.

“Come on, tell me who,” Mac rumbles against his throat. He tightens his hold on Dennis’ wrists, and Dennis moans as he bites at the bruise he’s made particularly hard.

“Fuck,” he bites out. “Mac, _please_.” 

“ _Dennis_.” He pulls away from Dennis’ neck. His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction from Dennis’ hands running through it.

“Jesus Christ you’re so annoying,” Dennis huffs. 

Mac just smiles, waiting. He still has Dennis’ wrists trapped. Dennis leans up to kiss him as a distraction, but Mac keeps himself just out of reach.

“Fine, _god_ , it was — it wasn’t a person, okay?” he admits, cheeks flaming. 

Mac frowns in confusion. “You mean like… a dildo?”

“Jesus, _yes_ , obviously a dildo Mac. Can we move on now?”

Mac drooped his head a little as they talked, and Dennis uses his confusion as an opportunity to kiss his cheek, the only part of his face he can reach. Mac dips into it, and Dennis can almost reach his mouth when he speaks again. 

“You didn’t use my bike did you?”

Dennis’ head falls back onto the pillow heavily. “Oh my god Mac, no. Don’t ever mention that thing while we’re having sex. In fact, tomorrow we’re getting rid of it.”

He expects Mac to try and argue with him, and preach about the health benefits of the bike, but he doesn’t. He just shrugs and leans down to kiss him.

He moans when Mac finally releases his wrists and touches him again. Mac strokes him loosely, just enough pressure to take the edge off. Dennis arches into it, choking out another moan against Mac’s mouth when he tightens his grip. Then Mac is pulling away, kissing down his chest and stomach. He shivers when Mac’s lips brush over his thighs. He spends a considerable amount of time sucking a hickey on his left leg as he squirms, inches from where Dennis really wants his mouth.

“ _Mac_ ,” he complains. 

“Yes?” Mac hums against his leg. He’s clearly in no hurry, despite the fact that Dennis is writhing and leaking precome on his stomach.

“You planning to fuck me sometime before we’re fifty?”

It doesn’t come out as biting as he planned. In fact he sounds even more desperate if possible, and he kicks Mac in the ribs when he laughs.

“What’s your rush dude?” Mac asks, nuzzling at his hip. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

Their eyes meet, and again he can’t think of anything to say that seems big enough. He pushes a hand through Mac’s hair gently instead, letting his thumb caress the shell of his ear. He’s not sure if Mac gets it, but his expression is unbearably soft as he threads his fingers with Dennis’ other hand. He kisses Dennis’ stomach; he shifts self consciously, feeling bloated and unworthy of such devotion. But he doesn’t get much time to dwell on that anyway. His mind suddenly whites out and he jerks as Mac’s mouth finally closes over the head of his cock.

Mac blows him messily but skillfully, using his tongue in a way that has Dennis alternating between clutching the sheets and tugging on Mac’s hair. Mac sneaks the hand that isn’t stroking the base of Dennis’ dick down further, and he groans loudly when Mac presses a finger to his rim. He arches into the pressure, lost in the wet heat of Mac’s mouth.

“Lube?” Mac requests hoarsely, pulling off when Dennis starts unconsciously thrusting and moaning louder.

Dennis takes a moment to compose himself. He breathes deeply, trying to bring himself down from the edge as Mac’s hands roam over his thighs. He reaches over to his nightstand, digging through the drawer blindly, and manages to find the lube.

“Condoms?” Mac asks once Dennis tosses the bottle to him.

“I’m safe,” Dennis says automatically. It takes a minute before it occurs to him that the condom is for Mac. He lifts his head to squint at him. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I — I went to the clinic a few weeks ago, I’m good.”

“A few weeks ago?” Dennis probes, despite the warning bells going off in his head.

“I went — a couple days after our fight,” Mac admits somewhat sheepishly. “I thought I was gonna like — sleep with someone else to feel better, wanted to make sure, you know.”

The alarm bells get louder. He knows it’s not fair to be hurt, that Mac sleeping with someone else was well within his right and that Dennis probably deserves it if he did. But he can’t help pushing it. “And?”

“I didn’t.” Something loosens in Dennis’ chest. “I couldn’t, you know? So I’m still, uh. I’m good.”

Dennis nods, and pulls Mac up for a kiss before he says something stupid. Mac melts into it, groaning as his cock slides across Dennis’ stomach, slick with precome. They kiss until Dennis gets antsy again, aching to feel Mac inside him. Mac seems to know somehow, because his hand trails back down between his legs, brushing over his cock and making him shiver before reaching his hole.

“Please, Mac,” Dennis pleads, again. He feels like he’s been hard for days.

Mac’s finger disappears for a minute, and he sits up to fiddle with the bottle of lube. Dennis looks up at him, and he would swear that Mac’s hands are shaking a little as he slicks up his fingers. He leans back over Dennis and presses their foreheads together, lips ghosting over his as he reaches between Dennis’ legs again.

“You good?” Mac breathes.

Dennis answers by reaching down and grabbing Mac’s wrist. He presses his hand more firmly against him, and then Mac is finally pressing his index finger inside.

He exhales sharply at the pressure; one hand fists in the sheets, the other curls at the base of Mac’s neck, pulling him down so they’re kissing properly. He gasps as Mac’s finger moves, crooking and searching already. Mac keeps up the slow drag of his finger until he starts rocking back against Mac’s hand, and then he adds another one. Dennis moans, pulling away from Mac’s mouth to breathe harshly, and he’s suddenly overcome with the need to touch Mac. He reaches between them and his hand closes over Mac’s dick, stroking and twisting the way he knows Mac likes from the few times they jerked off together. They always pretended not to look, but he knows Mac used to steal glances, and he’s thankful now that he used to as well. Mac chokes and twitches in his hand, gasping Dennis’ name as his fingers move faster.

They find a rhythm, Dennis’ strokes matching the pace of Mac’s fingers, and soon they’re both panting, open mouthed and helpless. And then Mac’s fingers crook just right, and Dennis cries out and arches his back as his brain short circuits.

“Fuck Dennis, you look —“ Mac trails off, voice reaching Dennis as if from underwater as his fingers press against that spot again.

“Mac, I need — I need — _fuck_ ,” he whines, rocking against his hand again.

“I got you,” Mac murmurs.

He kisses down Dennis’ jaw softly as he works in a third finger. It burns this time as Mac stretches him, but he doesn’t care. He kisses Mac sloppily, mouth open and barely moving against his. His hand slows on Mac’s dick, too consumed by the feel of someone else’s fingers inside him. The knowledge that it’s Mac is overwhelming; his skin is on fire everywhere that Mac is touching him.

Mac doesn’t seem to mind that Dennis’ hand has stopped. He looks enraptured with Dennis, watching him hungrily as he takes him apart. Dennis kisses him hard, can’t take the way Mac is looking at him anymore.

“You ready?” Mac asks, thumb of his free hand brushing over Dennis’ cheek.

“Yes,” he gasps in reply.

Mac sits up, and Dennis groans as he pulls his fingers out gently. He drinks in the sight of Mac slicking his cock with lube, watches the muscles in his arms ripple as he leans forward again and lifts Dennis’ legs to line himself up. Dennis bites his lip as he feels Mac’s cock press against him. He closes his eyes to try and relax, and then Mac is there again, kissing his cheeks and petting Dennis’ hair with his clean hand. His breathing evens out as Mac touches him, and he opens his eyes to see Mac watching him carefully.  
  
“You okay?” Mac asks.

He can feel the way Mac is trembling with want. He could almost cry at how gentle he’s being, while at the same time wanting to punch him for taking so long.

“Yes, fuck me,” Dennis answers, grinding down as much as he can, limited by the angle.

Mac lets out a shaky breath, and then he’s pushing in, forehead falling onto Dennis’ again. Dennis’ breath is coming out in fast, short spurts as Mac presses deeper. His hands grip Mac’s hips tight, nails digging into his skin, and they both moan when Mac bottoms out.

Mac is shaking, mouth pressing open mouthed kisses to Dennis’ neck as Dennis acclimatizes to the pressure and fullness.

“ _Dennis_ ,” Mac breathes against his neck after a moment. “Dennis, you feel —“

“Yeah,” Dennis agrees. His hands unclench, and Mac gasps, as if he hadn’t noticed the death grip Dennis had on him until he released him. He runs his hands over Mac’s back and pulls him in deeper, hands clenching on his ass. Mac moans, but stays still, waiting for Dennis to let him know he’s ready.

The discomfort subsides, and he clenches around Mac, dragging another shaky moan out of him.

“Move, Mac,” he grunts.

Mac nods, then pulls out and rocks back in slowly.  
  
“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Dennis pants.

Mac does it again, and again, and then he starts to move in earnest. Dennis’ hands are everywhere, curling in his hair and then back down over his shoulders and arms as Mac fucks him. He can’t think about anything beyond how good he feels; the world begins and ends with where he and Mac are joined, skin lighting up everywhere Mac is touching him.

“God you feel so good baby, _fuck_.” He’s distantly aware that he’s babbling again; Mac is steadily letting loose a stream of Dennis’ name and keening loudly when Dennis squeezes around him and uses the pet name.

Mac shifts, and the change in angle hits that spot inside him just right, and Dennis nearly screams as Mac slams into it several times in a row. He slows down a little as Dennis gasps, pressing against it for a few seconds longer before pulling out and slamming back in. Dennis clutches at the sheets, trying to control himself, but then Mac’s lips are on his again. Their tongues slide together and Mac moans into his mouth, kissing him like he’s dying.

Dennis pushes himself up by his elbows, keeping their mouths connected as he maneuvers Mac onto his side. They stay in that position for a second, catching their breath.

“Sit up,” Dennis instructs.

Mac listens, pulling out and kissing away Dennis’ wince as he does so. He settles against the headboard and Dennis climbs into his lap. He doesn’t waste any time in reaching behind him to guide Mac back inside, head falling back as he sinks onto his cock.

“Jesus Dennis,” Mac breathes.

Dennis starts to move, and Mac meets his pace, thrusting up as Dennis rides him. He finds the angle that has him crying out on every thrust; his hands settle on Mac’s shoulders and he tries to kiss him, but ends up just moaning into his mouth. Mac isn’t much better off. He’s sweating and looks completely wrecked as Dennis grinds down particularly hard, mouth falling open and head hitting the headboard.

He jerks as one of Mac’s hands closes around his dick, and his vision starts to go hazy. He knows he won’t last much longer, and his hands curl into Mac’s hair again as Mac strokes him.

Mac presses forward and his mouth moves over Dennis’ neck, moaning and thrusting faster in time with his hand. Mac is muttering something that Dennis can’t make out over his own noises, and it requires a significant amount of effort for him to focus and recognize his own name over and over. He pulls Mac up and presses their mouths together; he’s fixated on the sound of his voice when Mac pulls away to mutter something else.

“I love you,” Mac says against his mouth.

Dennis chokes and hides his face in Mac’s shoulder as Mac says it again into his hair. Mac is still moving, doing most of the work now, and his hand twists on Dennis’ cock just right. Dennis comes with a loud cry, vision whiting out, entire body jerking uncontrollably. He’s crying out Mac’s name as he rides it out. Mac’s free hand rubs over his back as he comes down, pressing kisses over his jaw and cheeks.

He feels Mac twitch inside him, and once he catches his breath and can form a coherent thought again he grinds down and squeezes, breathing in Mac’s gasp.

“Yeah, come on,” Dennis encourages him. Mac’s eyes fall shut as his head hits the headboard again, and Dennis attaches his lips to his throat, biting a hickey on his neck as he rides him.  
Mac moans loudly, breath hitching, and Dennis knows he’s almost there. He moves faster, and Mac lifts his head and catches Dennis’ mouth.

“Come on baby, wanna feel you come,” Dennis says, swallowing Mac’s moan as he thrusts a few more times. He comes, spilling hot inside Dennis, breathing out short little cries as he twitches in Dennis’ grasp.

They catch their breath together. Mac slumps forward and rests his head in Dennis’ shoulder. He holds Mac against him for a minute, rubbing his hands over his shoulders and through his hair as they both come down.

Mac shifts his hips and Dennis hisses, beyond overstimulated at this point.

“Shit, sorry,” Mac apologizes.

Dennis lifts himself carefully off Mac, wincing again as Mac slips out. Mac slides down until he’s laying against the pillows, pulling Dennis down with him. He lays his head on Mac’s chest and listens to his heartbeat as it slowly normalizes.

“That was…” Mac whispers after a few minutes, trailing off in awe.

Dennis can’t find the words to finish his sentence either, but he nods in Mac’s shoulder.

“I mean, just so you know, it’s not like that with all dudes,” Mac continues. “I mean, it’s good… usually, anyway, but not like that.” 

Dennis snorts. “Are you _already_ trying to convince me not to have sex with anyone else? I still have jizz on my stomach dude.”

“ _No_. I mean… okay maybe a little.” Dennis laughs into his neck. “I’m just — I’m trying to tell you how special that was.”  
  
“I know, I’m messing with you, Mac.”

“Oh,” he says. They’re quiet for another few minutes. Dennis knows they should clean up, but Mac is so warm, and his hands trailing over Dennis’ skin is lulling him to sleep.

“I do like it when you call me baby, you know,” Mac says quietly just as Dennis’ eyes droop closed.

“Yeah, I got that, Mac. Are you literally incapable of just letting a moment linger?” he says irritably.

“I’m just saying!”

“Okay, _noted_. Now can we please go to sleep _baby_?”

He can feel the pleased little smile Mac presses to his forehead before he kisses it.

“I’ll go get a washcloth, hang on.”  
  
Dennis tightens his hold as Mac tries to get up, pulling him back before he even untangles himself from Dennis’ arms.

“Don’t go,” Dennis mumbles.  
  
“Didn’t think you’d be so clingy after sex,” Mac says, mouth curling into a self satisfied grin.

“‘M not _clingy_ , I want to sleep,” Dennis argues, closing his eyes and nuzzling closer to Mac’s neck.

“Okay, but you’re gonna be pissy if you wake up with dried jizz on you. I’ll be right back.”

Dennis huffs but lets Mac go. He reappears in record time with a warm washcloth that he wipes over Dennis’ stomach and between his legs. Dennis nestles back into Mac’s arms the moment he’s back in the bed, and Mac pulls the comforter over them. Dennis falls asleep to Mac’s hand combing through his hair, lips pressed against his temple.

 

*

 

Dennis wakes up slowly. The first thing he’s aware of is the warm puffs of air against his neck, and the heavy arm draped over his waist. Mac is curled up against his back, legs tangled with his. The second thing he’s aware of is how full his bladder is.

He snakes his way out of Mac’s embrace and tiptoes to the bathroom, walking a little awkwardly as the ache in his ass makes itself known. 

He uses toilet and brushes his teeth, examining the marks on his neck and chest as he does so. He shivers as he presses his fingers to a darker one on his neck. A little thrill goes through him as he thinks about last night and how he got it.

He pads back out to the bedroom once he’s cleaned up. Mac hasn’t even stirred. Dennis climbs back in bed, laying so that he’s facing him, and watches the shadows move over his sleeping face. Mac is so expressive by day, seeing him so still and peaceful is like a rare privilege. He used to watch him like this when they lived at Dee’s on the few occasions they slept next to each other in the bed. It feels different now that he’s allowing himself to really look, now that he sees him in this light, literally and metaphorically. Watching early morning daylight filter through the window and illuminate his skin like this, it’s impossible not to admit to himself how beautiful he thinks Mac is. He wonders how he managed to deny himself this for so long.

Mac sniffs and reaches up to rub his eyes as he wakes up. His eyes are bleary and unfocused, but he still beams brightly when he sees Dennis.

“Morning,” he greets, voice hoarse with sleep. He leans in and kisses Dennis, pulling away far too soon for Dennis’ taste.

“Morning breath,” he explains apologetically when Dennis makes a quiet noise of protest.

“I don’t care,” Dennis says, kissing him again. But he pushes him off the second Mac deepens the kiss.

“Actually, I do care. Go brush your teeth.”

Mac rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. He rolls out of the bed; Dennis watches him unreservedly as he walks naked through the room. He hears him clamor around in the bathroom for a few minutes. The toilet flushes, and he hears the water running for a minute, and then he’s climbing back in and cuddling up with Dennis again.

“I thought we were kissing,” Dennis complains when Mac nestles his head between Dennis’ shoulder and neck.

“We can do that later, I’m still sleepy.”

“But I’m awake. Come on Mac.”

Mac doesn’t answer. He snuggles closer and Dennis knows he’s closing his eyes.  
  
“ _Mac_. Don’t go back to sleep.”

“Mmf.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll just blow myself then.”  
  
Mac perks up immediately, eyes bright and awake when he looks up at Dennis. “You were gonna —?”

“Not anymore,” Dennis huffs. “You can’t even stay awake long enough to kiss me, why should I —“

Mac cuts him off, pressing his lips to Dennis’, and its much more pleasant now without the taste of sour morning breath. He just tastes Mac, mixed in with spearmint toothpaste. They kiss lazily, unhurried despite Dennis’ previous vague offer to blow him. He’s learned that Mac likes when Dennis bites his bottom lip, and he does it several times, soothing over it with his tongue.

Mac pulls away after awhile, but he doesn’t push for anything more or kiss him again. He just watches Dennis as they catch their breath.

“What?” Dennis asks when he can’t take the scrutiny anymore.  
  
“Nothing,” Mac says evasively.

“What, Mac?”

He looks weird. His expression is a mix of embarrassment and apprehension, and he bites his lip as he considers how to phrase what he’s about to say.

“I was just — thinking,” he starts, speaking to Dennis’ chin and nervously tracing shapes on Dennis’ shoulder. “Things changed with us when you left.”  
  
Dennis stiffens, but Mac doesn’t seem to notice. It’s not really a question, but he still feels obligated to respond. He’s hesitant when he answers, “Um, yeah. I guess.”

“Right, so — like, what changed? I mean it’s like one day you wanted nothing to do with me, and then you’re telling me you’re gay and — touching me all the time, and the thing at The Rainbow —”  
  
“Well, you told me you were in love with me, if you recall,” Dennis interrupts loftily.  
  
Mac finally looks him in the eye. “Was that it?” he asks incredulously. “Shit if I knew it was that easy I’d have told you years ago.”

Dennis sighs heavily, hoping Mac can’t feel the way his heart rate has doubled.  
  
“Do we really have to have this conversation right now?”

“Well, when else would we have it?” Mac pushes. “I’m just — it’s just a lot to wrap my head around dude. I thought I knew how things were, and then it all just got scrambled in my head, you know?”

“Can’t you just accept what happened last night? Without having a whole conversation about it? We haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Fine, let’s get coffee and then we’ll talk,” Mac says. He starts to get up, but Dennis grabs his arm before he’s sitting up all the way.

“No, no, Jesus, stay here.” He pulls his arm until Mac is laying down again. He keeps his hand on his arm as he speaks, needing to anchor himself to something for this conversation.

“Okay, well obviously you telling me — _that_ — kind of… stirred up feelings, I guess,” Dennis stammers. He literally had sex with Mac last night and still finds himself blushing as he admits this.

“Okay…” Mac says, with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “So like, I inspired you to come out?”

“Well — yeah, but not because of that. Or, not _just_ because of that.”

“Then how?” He frowns as he thinks it over. “Wait, was it my _dance_?” He asks, perking up significantly, voice pitched high.  
  
“I — yeah, a little, I guess.” Dennis concedes. Mac is beaming. “I mean, I _told_ you it was inspiring that night, remember? This shouldn’t be — this isn’t a big deal!”  
  
“Yeah it is dude!” Mac pushes up onto his elbow, gesticulating excitedly. “That was just supposed to be like, a thing with me and my dad, I can’t believe it affected you like that.”  
  
“Yeah well…” Dennis trails off, cheeks still warm. He picks at a loose thread on the sheets. “Anyway it just all kind of… snowballed from there.”

“Dennis…”

He looks up, and briefly catches Mac’s adoring expression before he leans over and kisses him. It feels different; more intense, somehow. He loses himself in it, trying to communicate everything else he couldn’t say last night in the kiss.

He returns Mac’s smile when they break apart and runs his hands through Mac’s hair.

“I need to thank Callie next time I see her. You really were great,” Dennis says softly.  
  
Mac swallows and his face pinches like he’s fighting tears.  
  
“Thanks. And plus, I’m flexible as shit now,” Mac adds. He grins again when Dennis rolls his eyes. “I am!”

Dennis flips them over. His mouth hovers over Mac’s, parted slightly in shock at being overpowered by Dennis. He presses his lips to Mac’s gently as he straddles him.

“Prove it.” 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> okay babes, so I lied. there'll be one more chapter to wrap things up. I didn't expect for the sex scene to get so lengthy and emotional so it turned into a chapter on its own rip. 
> 
> hope you enjoy it, come talk to me on tumblr @hyruling <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hang on,” he says, interrupting Charlie’s tirade about the amount of rats in the basement. “That’s all? We’re not gonna have a conversation about this?” He gestures to Mac with the tip of his beer bottle. A little bit sloshes over the edge.
> 
> “Dude, we had an entire arbitration about it yesterday,” Charlie says. “Like, what else is there to say?”
> 
> “I thought you were already banging,” Frank adds with a small shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: a lot of delving into dennis' mental health, including disassociation and slight mention of his eating disorder. 
> 
> not really a content warning but there's a bunch of time jumps in this chapter to wrap things up just fyi <3

_January_

“Oh, _ew_ , oh you guys banged didn’t you?”   
  
Dennis freezes in place next to Mac. They’ve barely even crossed the threshold of the entrance to Paddy’s when Dee’s voice assaults his ears and ruins his mood.

Mac seems to have no such qualms, and replies cheerfully, “Yeah, twice. Wanna hear about it?”

Charlie, Dee, and Frank all simultaneously make noises of dissent and disgust. Frank mimes vomiting, and Mac shoots a small smile over his shoulder at Dennis. The tightness in his chest softens into something warm.

And that’s… it. Mac and Dennis settle in front of the other three behind the bar. Mac gets a beer, and cracks one open for Dennis too, and then they’re onto the next topic just like that. For all his dramatics about not wanting anything to change, he’s almost annoyed to discover how little the others care now that they’re A Thing. A Thing that he doesn’t have a name for.

He can't stand it.

“Hang on,” he says, interrupting Charlie’s tirade about the amount of rats in the basement. “That’s all? We’re not gonna have a conversation about this?” He gestures to Mac with the tip of his beer bottle. A little bit sloshes over the edge.

“Dude, we had an entire arbitration about it yesterday,” Charlie says. “Like, what else is there to say?”

“I thought you were already banging,” Frank adds with a small shrug.

“Yeah but — this is, different,” Dennis stammers. His cheeks heat up as he feels Mac’s eyes on him. “This is — it’s not just sex, you know.”  
  
“It’s not?”

He glances at Mac, who’s looking at him like he hung the moon and stars and entire solar system.

“ _Gross_ ,” Dee interjects before Dennis can answer. “This is so much worse, please go back to talking about sex.”  
  
“Shut up Dee,” Mac mutters. He knocks his hand against Dennis’, and no one else notices when Dennis locks his pinky around Mac’s.

He tunes the others out as they drink and chat. Everything that happened yesterday was decidedly _not_ part of his plan, but now that he’s here there’s no way he can go back. He looks at Mac, turns over the last twenty four hours in his head, pulling apart the pieces and examining them. All of his hesitations and fears about acting on his feelings for Mac are still there, hammering at the nice, warm Mac haze that’s currently encompassing all of his conscious thoughts. But the part of his brain that’s supposed to _care_ about all of these hesitations and fears is subdued when Mac looks back at him and smiles softly. 

Regardless, the fact that Dee could so easily read it on their faces is annoying, and something that would have driven Dennis of a few weeks ago straight into a panic attack. But it doesn’t come. He watches Mac, loud and energetic and open, and his mind quietens. The next thing he knows, they’re discussing dog breeds, and no one even looks up when Mac shyly wraps his arm around Dennis’ waist. Dennis feels Mac’s rumbling voice as much as he hears it as he tries to come up with the perfect mix breed (German shepherd and Rottweiler, apparently). And with a horrible jolt he realizes something extremely distasteful.

Dee was right.

She was right, and he couldn’t possibly hate any combination of words in the English language more than those three, in that order.

 

Despite the relative ease of that first day, for weeks after he first sleeps with Mac he waits for the other shoe to drop. He slips further into a downward spiral, anxious and irritable, balancing on a precipice and waiting for Mac to come to his senses, either on his own or with Dennis’ help. He starts flying off the handle at the smallest inconveniences, taking his frustration out on Mac even more than usual. But in a way that’s either infuriating or endearing, depending on what mood he’s in, Mac seems to understand what’s really going on. He brings Dennis back down with gentle touches and kisses him until he forgets his own name, let alone his petty concerns about their new arrangement.

When it comes down to it though, nothing really changes. Mac still pisses him off daily. They keep to their usual routine, except now when Mac falls asleep on his shoulder while they’re watching Predator, he doesn’t shove him off and leave him to sleep on the couch. Now he wakes him with his lips against his temple, and lets him keep his head tucked in Dennis’ neck as he sleepily follows him to bed. And when they get into an argument about what to do with Mac’s old room (a home gym or a tasteful wine cellar) it ends with Dennis pressing him against the refrigerator and blowing him on the kitchen floor rather than a trip to the ER.

Nothing changes, except now Mac tells him he loves him everyday. He says it before he leaves for the gym, and before they fall asleep, and every time they have sex. Once he even says it just because Dennis thinks to pick up some of Mac’s protein powder at the store. He says it like he’s been waiting to his whole life, like he’s held the words close in his chest for years and they’re overflowing, spilling out of his control. Objectively he should be annoyed, because he hasn’t said it back, and if he didn’t know better he’d think Mac was somehow rubbing it in his face, or trying to wheedle it out of him in return.

He doesn’t say it back. He comes close a few times, but always stops himself for reasons he can’t explain even to himself. But his insides thrum like he’s touched an exposed wire every time Mac says it, and he chokes on air and kisses him to hide the way his tongue feels too big for his mouth.

 

_February_

 

The day before Valentines Day, Dee pushes Dennis off a ladder while hanging the sign advertising their drink specials for the next day. Which… isn’t entirely accurate, but that’s how Dennis tells the story when Mac sees him staggering in a few minutes later, hanging heavily on Dee’s shoulders. It’s worth it to see Mac go off on her as he fusses over Dennis, cleaning his cuts and checking for signs of concussion. He’s fairly sure none of the questions he asks Dennis have anything to do with symptoms of a concussion, but he allows it, because Mac’s hands feel good running over his skin.

The next morning though, he wakes up in agony, feeling like he's about eighty seven years old. His back is screaming, and his head is pounding with what feels like the beginnings of a migraine. Normally he would deal with it using booze, an unhealthy amount of Excedrin, and sleeping until he could function again. But of course today is Valentine’s Day, and they have an annoying ass scheme that Frank cooked up to get through.

“Morning,” Mac greets him when he shuffles into the kitchen. He presses a brief kiss to his lips and hands him a cup of coffee.

Dennis grunts in reply. He slowly eases himself into a chair; Mac is busy with something at the counter and doesn’t notice how gingerly he’s moving.He sips his coffee and closes his eyes as the bright lights of the kitchen pierce his pounding skull. Mac sits across from him, and he hears two plates settle on the table.

“Uh… notice anything?” Mac asks after a few minutes. Dennis cracks open his eyes, and sees two heart shaped pancakes sitting in front of him. Mac is grinning across from him, watching him carefully for a reaction.

“I didn’t even burn them or anything, _and_ I have pink whipped cream,” Mac continues excitedly. He adds the whipped cream to their plates, carefully outlining the pancakes, his tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrates.

His heart clenches painfully, and his hand stops Mac’s arm from digging into his own food.

“Mac, I thought — we agreed not to do gifts,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s — we’ve only been, you know, for a couple weeks —“  
  
“I know,” Mac says. He pulls his arm back and interlocks his fingers with Dennis’. “This isn’t a _present_ , babe, it’s just breakfast.”

Another new thing: Mac’s started trading out some of his frequent ‘dudes’ for ‘babe’, or ‘baby’ when they’re having sex, and even once: ‘honey’. Dennis swallows hard, feeling shaky and overwhelmed. Sometimes he thinks the way he feels for Mac is going to just explode out of him one day, undignified and dangerous, into thousands of pieces that will ruin him. And moments like this make him think it’s going to happen sooner rather than later.

“Okay, but, don’t be mad, but I did get you one thing,” Mac says hurriedly after a minute. “It’s literally like, nothing, don’t freak out —“  
  
“I’m not freaking out,” Dennis answers calmly.

He is freaking out. He has absolutely nothing to give Mac in return, _again_ , and his head is throbbing, and the nausea that’s started roiling in his gut is making it hard for him to even finish the breakfast Mac made him.

“You sure? You look kinda pale… you okay?” Mac questions.

Dennis waves him off. “I’m fine. What’s the present that’s not really a present?”

Mac watches him closely for a moment but eventually stands and disappears into his room. His _old_ room. He hasn’t slept there in weeks, and they still haven’t agreed on what to do with it. He wonders briefly if they should migrate to that room. It actually has better lighting than his, though Dennis has the bigger closet. Maybe they could turn one of the rooms into a walk in closet instead of a gym, or wine cellar.

He’s about to suggest the idea when Mac returns with a white box in his hands. He hasn’t wrapped it, but there’s a big red bow on top.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says brightly as he presses the box into Dennis’ hands. He cups Dennis’ face and kisses him; the shaky feeling expands, wracks through his chest and spreads to his hands.

Dennis lifts the lid off the box, and hopes Mac can’t see how his hands are trembling.

It’s a pink button down, the color soft and muted, unlike the garish, scratchy hot pink polo shirt sitting in his closet that Frank had insisted they wear to work today.

“You know you made such a big deal about the other shirt, I figured you could wear this one and Frank can’t _really_ give you any shit because it’s still pink,” Mac is saying through the buzzing in his ears. “It’s more your style. I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

There’s an edge of nervousness in his voice the longer Dennis is silent.

“Do you um… do you like it? I still have the receipt I think, you can exchange it —“  
  
Dennis is on his feet and kissing him before he can finish. He ignores the way the sudden movement makes his back twinge painfully. The shaky feeling is still there, but it’s muted now that he’s touching Mac, opening his mouth immediately when he feels Mac’s tongue slide over his bottom lip. The pain in his head dulls; he wonders idly if he could bottle this feeling. He’d be a millionaire if he could sell the way kissing Mac feels.

“Thank you,” Dennis murmurs against his lips. He feels Mac smile.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “It’s really not — it’s lame, dude, not really worth a kiss like that.”

“ _I_ will decide what’s worthy of a kiss like that, thank you,” Dennis retorts. He presses his lips to Mac’s again for emphasis.

Mac grins a little bashfully, cheeks rosy as he says, “Can’t wait to see Frank’s eyes bulge out of their sockets when you show up in this."

Dennis nods, and for some reason the movement makes the dull ache in his head swell back to a sharp stab. Whatever he did yesterday must have fucked up his neck too. He winces, hand flying to his temple instinctively.  
  
“Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

Mac’s hands are cool on his face, rubbing soothingly over his cheeks.

“My back,” Dennis bites out. “It hurts like hell, and I think it’s giving me a migraine.”  
  
“Shit, why didn’t you say anything?” Mac asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he steers Dennis slowly to the couch. “Sit here, I’m gonna get something.”

Dennis closes his eyes and lets his head carefully fall against the back of the couch, and he loses track of time. Mac is gone for thirty seconds, or thirty hours for all he knows. All he knows and all he’ll ever know again is pain, and nausea.

“Hey, I’m back,” Mac says gently.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he notices is that Mac has turned off most of the lights. The room is shrouded in semi darkness, and Mac’s cool fingers are on his face again.

“Here, this is the strongest stuff we have,” Mac says, holding a bottle of pills out. Dennis takes them and squints at the label.

“This is oxy,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I know babe.”

“Oxy makes me loopy.”  
  
“You’re already kind of loopy. Just start with two, and see how you feel.”

He hands Dennis a glass of water and opens the bottle for him. Dennis takes the pills, and swallows a few large gulps of water. Mac settles on the couch next to him.

“Here, lie back,” Mac coaxes, pulling at his shoulders. Dennis goes easily, only wincing a little and resting his head in the pillow of Mac’s lap. Mac’s hands are in his hair immediately, petting gently and untangling his bedhead. Dennis’ eyes close as Mac’s fingers move to his temples, massaging gently.

He doesn’t know how long they stay that way until the medication starts to take effect. The only thing he’s aware of is Mac’s hands, still massaging, and Dennis swears it feels better than sex.

“No way dude,” Mac answers his thoughts. It was only a matter of time before Mac could read his mind. “Especially not _our_ sex, nothing is better than that.”  
  
“This is,” Dennis mumbles. “This is all we’re doing from now on. I’ll massage you too, then you’ll see.”  
  
His hands reach up blindly and Mac laughs and grabs them before they reach his face. His hands quickly resume kneading his temples.  
  
“You’re already slurring so bad. Oxy really fucks you up, huh?” Mac sings. He doesn’t actually sing, but his voice is so light and pretty that Dennis thinks it sounds like singing.

“I’m not singing. But thanks.”  
  
“Mmm.”

Mac sighs. “How are you going to make it through work like this?”  
  
“‘M not going,” Dennis answers.

“We have to go. Frank needs us to —“  
  
“Fuck Frank,” Dennis slurs. He has no control over his mouth. “Frank sucks dude, Frank like — he’s like fake family, you know? He’s not real.”  
  
“I know,” Mac says patiently.

“And he’s _stupid_ , he really thought he’d be able to get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

An alarm sounds, blaring from far away where Dennis can just barely make it out. His head is full of cotton, and he can’t clear it enough to hear what it’s trying to tell him.  
  
“Den?”

They both jump as Mac’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Shit, sorry,” Mac says, struggling to pull it out of his pants with Dennis’ head positioned the way it is. “Fuck, it’s Dee. Stay quiet, okay?”  
  
Dennis lifts a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion, and Mac smiles fondly before picking up.

“Hello?”  
  
He can’t make out Dee’s half of the conversation, but he can hear her voice coming through the speaker, high pitched and tinny and annoying.

“Yeah I know sorry, you guys are gonna have to figure it out, Dennis is sick.”  
  
Dee’s voice rises several octaves as she sputters out some indignant response.

“ _No_ , Jesus, he has a migraine, and a fucked up back. Which is _your_ goddamn fault.”  
  
More high pitched squawking. Mac rolls his eyes and waits it out.

“Whatever Dee, it doesn’t matter. Tell Frank to figure it out, we’re not coming in.”

Dee is yelling again when Mac ends the call. He starts massaging Dennis’ head again after he tosses his phone on the cushions; Dennis sighs contentedly.

“He definitely can’t fire us right?” Mac asks after awhile. “Like, we still own the bar right?”  
  
“Yeah baby,” Dennis answers. “You and me. It’s ours. It’s _our_ baby.”  
  
Mac chuckles. “You’re so fucking gone dude. Charlie owns it too, remember?”

“Who cares about him, I’m not in love with _Charlie_.”

Mac’s hands still. Dennis whines, wondering why he’s stopped. Mac should always be touching him.

“I am touching you,” Mac answers him. It’s getting weird how he can read his mind. And Mac’s voice sounds weird.

“I’m not reading your mind, you’re talking to me.”  
  
“No I’m not, don’t be ridiculous. Why do you sound weird?”  
  
“I’m — don’t worry about it,” Mac says, voice soft and kind of wobbly. Like how Dennis felt earlier. “Close your eyes Den.”

He does, and then it’s quiet except for their breathing. Sleep finds him easily with Mac’s hands raking through his hair, gently pulling him deeper into unconsciousness.

 

Dennis wakes up curled on Mac’s chest. Mac is laying under him, head pillowed on his own arm, other arm wrapped around Dennis’ back. He shifts, trying to figure out how to stand up without disturbing Mac, and he accidentally presses his knee into Mac’s dick.

“Oww, _shit_ ,” Mac groans as he jumps awake.  
  
“Fuck, sorry,” Dennis says, smoothing it over by pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“Ugh, Jesus my _neck_ ,” Mac whines as he shifts into a sitting position. “And my _dick_.”

“Not to, you know, kick you while you’re down, but this is exactly why I said we need a new couch,” Dennis points out. “I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”  
  
He leans in and presses his mouth to Mac’s neck, hand drifting down to his crotch. Mac stops before he gets a proper grip.

“I’m gonna need a little more recovery time here dude,” he says, voice strained. “I guess you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah, my back barely hurts. And the migraine’s totally gone,” Dennis replies. He gestures to the pill bottle and continues, “That’s some good shit, didn’t even need to wash it down with booze.”

Mac has an odd smile on his face when he agrees. “Yeah. Probably should have a warning on the label for the mind reading side effects, though.”

“What?”

The smile fades. “The — oh shit, do you not remember?”  
  
“Remember what?” Dennis asks slowly.

He’s not panicking. He’s not. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s blacked out from alcohol or drugs. But he’s slightly concerned about what he might have said, based on the way jumpy way Mac is acting.

“Nothing,” Mac assures him. The weird smile is back. “You were just kind of loopy. You thought I was singing at one point.”

“Oh. Um, what else did I say?” he prods warily.

“Not much, really. You like my voice.”

Dennis rolls his eyes, pushing at Mac’s shoulder when he continues to stare at him, smiling all lopsided. There’s a hesitancy in it though, like he’s debating something internally. He opens his mouth, apparently deciding to say whatever is on his mind, and that’s when Dennis officially panics.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says abruptly, already halfway standing as he speaks.

He locks the door behind him once he’s safely inside. His heart races, and he tries to make himself calm down, but that’s about as useful as telling the sun not to rise in the morning. He has no idea what he could have said to Mac, but it was obviously something Mac wants to _talk_ about, with a capital T.

An array of orange and white bottles lining the counter distract him from his rising panic. Mac must have pulled them out of the cabinet while looking for pain meds. He starts putting them away to distract himself from thinking about Mac, only for his heart rate to triple when his fingers close over the newest bottle, the one Dee forced on him.

He stares at it for a long time, turning it over in his hands. He realizes for the first time that Dee’s name is on it, meaning she must have gone to a shrink and pretended to be like him. _Psychotic_ and _crazy_ and all the other bullshit adjectives that have been used against him over the years. Part of him is a little touched that she went to those lengths for him, but mostly he’s just pissed all over again.

He hastily shoves the bottle back in the cabinet, only briefly considering flushing them down the toilet. He may be able to sell them, he reasons. That’s why he keeps them. His hand flies out and knocks over the cup that holds their toothbrushes, breathing heavily as he works through the anger coursing through him, sparking hot in his fingertips. He needs to hit something, or run away, anything to release some of the turbulent kinetic energy buzzing in his chest.

“Dennis?” Mac knocks on the bathroom door. “You okay? I heard something fall.”  
  
Dennis opens the door, and Mac is there, and then he’s pulling Mac in by his shirt and kissing him hard.  
  
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Mac pulls back to ask.  
  
“Shut up,” Dennis answers, kissing him again. He needs Mac’s hands on his skin, needs to fill all of his senses with Mac to drown the rage burrowing it’s way into his skin.

He sucks on Mac’s tongue, and whatever other protests Mac might have had get lost in the heat of Dennis’ mouth. He groans and pulls Dennis closer by his hips, hands trailing up under his shirt the way Dennis was craving. His arms wrap around Mac’s neck. Mac’s mouth is like a drug, he thinks, and some would argue it’s not the best coping mechanism, but it’s healthier than a bottle of Jack or any of the pills in the cabinet above them. Fuck Dee, and fuck his shrink. Mac is all he needs.

“Dennis,” Mac breathes, and it’s only then he realizes he said that out loud. “Den, I —“

“Touch me,” Dennis gasps. He’s dizzy, swaying in Mac’s grip. He pulls Mac back down, attaches his lips to his throat, kissing and licking and biting until Mac is whimpering.

“Dennis, we should — you’re —“  
  
“I’m _fine_ ,” Dennis growls. “Stop being annoying and let me fuck you.”

“ _Dennis_.” He pulls away and holds Dennis at arms length, panting as he stares at him.

“Jesus, _what_? What is so goddamn important?”

Mac sets his jaw. “What did you say about your shrink?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dennis replies darkly. “I don’t need — we’re not talking about this.”

“You brought it up!” Mac argues. He crosses his arms, and Dennis is cold with Mac’s hands so far away.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that, I was just — it’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. Have you — are you seeing Dr. Coleman again?”

“You remember his _name_?”

“Of course I do,” Mac answers matter of factly. “I did a _full_ ocular patdown on him dude, had to make sure he wasn’t one of those shrinks that’s just as psycho as his patients.”  
  
“So you think I’m psycho?” Dennis snaps.

“No, Jesus, don’t — don’t twist my words.”

“I'm not twisting anything. You _just_ said —“  
  
“Den, stop,” Mac pleads. “I just want to help you, but when you get all defensive and jump down my throat like this —“

“I’m not defensive, _you’re_ preaching about things you don’t know shit about, Mac.”

“Preaching? How was I preaching? I asked a single goddamn question —“

“You’re being nosy, and intrusive,” Dennis retorts, thinking longingly of the bottle of Jack he so easily dismissed a few minutes ago.

“I love you, Dennis,” Mac snaps, and it’s different this time. It’s not sweet, it’s biting and harsh. It still has the intended effect, though. Dennis shuts up, hates the way his breath catches. “I need — I want you to be okay.”

“I _am_ okay. Or at least I was, until you stopped touching me.”

Mac rolls his eyes and focuses his gaze somewhere over Dennis’ shoulder. Dennis uses the opportunity to step closer, and run his hands up Mac’s chest. Mac exhales heavily and meets Dennis’ eyes again.

“Please just — kiss me,” Dennis pleads, voice hushed.

Mac looks at him for a long time. Dennis forces himself to keep his eyes on Mac’s face, hands trailing up to Mac’s neck. Mac seems to come to a decision. His face is still pinched when he touches Dennis’ sides again, leaning into his space.

“This isn’t over,” Mac mutters before he kisses him.

Dennis melts, curling his body towards Mac. His hands trail down Mac’s chest again, and Mac pulls him closer, trapping his elbows between their bodies. His hands go limp, and he lets Mac control the kiss, lets his brain turn to static, lets Mac push him against the counter, and him lift him onto it with hands under his thighs. Dennis rouses enough to tug Mac’s shirt over his head, needing to feel his skin under his hands. Mac’s hands creep under Dennis’ shirt, but Dennis doesn’t stop touching him long enough to let him remove it. He wraps his arms around Mac’s neck again, buries his hands in his hair and kisses him deep, tongues sliding together.

He’s half hard when one of Mac’s hands trails down and starts playing with the elastic of his sweats. He palms Dennis through his pants, and Dennis moans against his mouth. He thrusts forward, encouraging Mac, and lets out a punched out breath when Mac’s hand deftly reaches in and closes around his dick.  
  
“Fuck, yes Mac,” he breathes, head falling back as Mac strokes him loosely. Breathy little gasps escape his throat as Mac works him for a few minutes. Mac’s own breathing starts to sound labored, and Dennis shifts so that his leg presses against Mac’s crotch. Mac groans, grinding against the space between his hip and his leg while Dennis undoes the button of his jeans.

“Sit up for a sec,” Mac says. Dennis lifts up a little and Mac pulls his sweats down to his knees, not bothering to take them all the way off before he’s diving back in for Dennis’ mouth. The porcelain of the counter is cold against his overheated skin.

Dennis works Mac’s jeans down and over his ass, reaching under his boxers and massaging his skin while simultaneously pulling Mac closer. Mac continues to rut against Dennis through his boxers, kissing him open mouthed and filthy. Dennis’ nails dig into the skin of Mac’s ass, drawing a heavy groan out of him.

Mac pulls away and breathes heavily against Dennis’ mouth, eyes dark. One of his hands lifts to Dennis’ mouth. Dennis licks his palm, grabbing his wrist when Mac starts to pull away and sucking a few fingers into his mouth. Mac groans loudly, dick twitching against Dennis’ leg.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps when Dennis sucks harder. “God, you look — _fuck_.”

He pulls his fingers out of Dennis’ mouth with a little ‘pop’, and then his hand is back on Dennis’ cock, slick and warm. Dennis’ head falls back again, colliding hard with the mirror, moaning loudly as Mac’s hand pumps and twists.

“That’s right baby, tell me how much you like it,” Mac is babbling. Heat coils hard in his stomach, spreads through his entire body, and he chokes when Mac’s free hand reaches down to cup his balls.

“Mac, _Mac_ ,” he’s chanting. He’s distantly aware that Mac is still grinding hard against his hip. Mac’s mouth attaches to Dennis’ exposed throat, sucking hard at his pulse point. Dennis keens, hands scrabbling to clutch at Mac’s shoulders, fingers digging hard into his skin.

“You sound so good, Den, do you even know what you sound like?” Mac rumbles against his throat. He moans louder as Mac’s hand tightens. His free hand trails up again, crawling under his shirt to play with his nipples. “You never sounded like this with anyone else, none of them —“  
  
“Only you,” Dennis finishes for him, arching up and coming hard just as Mac’s mouth catches his lips again.

Mac keeps stroking him as he comes down, mouth tracing kisses over his jaw. His clean hand is rubbing soothing circles into Dennis’ thigh, and Dennis focuses on that as his heart rate slows.

“Let me,” he says vaguely, reaching for Mac’s dick. Mac jerks as Dennis’ hand comes in contact with wet fabric.

“You already —?” he asks, and Mac nods and presses a kiss to Dennis’ jaw.

“Yeah,” Mac answers. He ducks his head shyly. “You were um. Really hot,” he mutters to Dennis’ collarbone.

Dennis huffs, smiling fondly at Mac’s embarrassment. “Well shit, that’s the easiest sex I’ve ever had. Probably shouldn’t have told me you’re that easy.”

“Shut up, you’re doing all the work next time,” Mac snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.  
  
“Don’t worry, I will,” Dennis promises. “It’s gonna blow your mind. I owe you, after all.”

“Why?”

“For not getting you a Valentines present,” Dennis answers. He kisses him before he can argue, hands carding through his hair and thumbing over his cheeks. “And for ruining your shirt.”

Mac blinks and gets a better look at the old “Dick Nose” t-shirt he’s wearing.  
  
“You _dick_ ,” he exclaims, pinching one of Dennis’ nipples before stripping himself of his ruined boxers and turning on the shower. Dennis joins him a minute later, and spends the next thirty minutes distracting him from the huge, therapy sized elephant in the room.

 

_March_

 

It’s St. Paddy’s Day. It’s St. Paddy’s Day, and Dennis is alone, in the rain, in the middle of a goddamn Walmart parking lot, and it’s Mac’s fault.

Technically speaking, it’s Frank’s fault, because Frank thought he could drive the goddamn float despite having ten year old glasses and a bad track record with operating large vehicles.

Everything was fine. They were actually having fun, drinking and dancing and throwing some Paddy’s koozies to the crowd, hoping to entice new customers to the bar after the parade. But then they got to the end of the parade route, and Frank rear ended the float in front of them, causing a domino effect that ended with Charlie bleeding profusely through his green man suit, Frank clutching at his broken nose, and Dee sporting a black eye and broken wrist. Dennis and Mac managed to escape unscathed, only because Mac saw the wreck coming and threw his arm around Dennis’ waist at the last minute, preventing him from toppling over the edge of the float along with Charlie and Dee.

So technically speaking, he shouldn’t be as pissed at Mac as he is right now, but Mac _abandoned_ him. He insisted on driving the other three to the hospital, because Dennis was “better at dealing with those cop bozos”. So Dennis hung back to sort out the police report, and slowly the parking lot emptied, but here he still is, soaking wet and freezing and furious.

He fumes the entire two hours it takes for Mac to come back, thinking of at least fifty different ways to verbally eviscerate him when he gets back. But when Mac finally peels into the lot, things get blurry the way they do when he’s this angry. He’s aware of Mac practically falling out of the Range Rover, rain droplets pooling on his lips, apology that he’d probably practiced the whole way over dying in his throat as Dennis lays into him. Mac’s face falls as that feverish, dark thing takes hold of his system, and then he’s not aware of anything at all.

The next thing he’s distinctly conscious of is being home, with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. He’s shaking, from cold and the residual traces of rage still flickering in his chest. Mac is in the kitchen, and then he’s in front of Dennis, handing him a hot mug of something. He doesn’t look, he just stares somewhere in the region of Mac’s chest as he perches on the edge of the coffee table.  
  
“Den?” he asks quietly. He winces; Mac’s voice is excruciating through the dull static in his brain.

“Don’t,” Dennis croaks. His voice is so hoarse.

He remembers reading something once, a bullshit phrase embroidered on some tacky pillow in a thrift store. It was something along the lines of not being able to hate what you don’t love. He’d scoffed and brushed it off at the time, but it stuck with him, digging at him for weeks. He hates mosquitoes, and Adam Sandler movies, and tree pollen and people who shush and countless others, and there’s not a shred of anything even resembling love in him for any of these things. It bothered him for weeks, until one night after drinking heavily at the bar with Dee, he’d tried to talk it through with her. She’d laughed at him, and told him that the saying applied to _people, dumbass_. His eyes had found Mac immediately, laughing and playing pool with Charlie. He’d downed three shots in a row so he’d never think the words “Mac” and “love” in the same sentence again. 

Now, sometimes when Mac looks at him all sleepy in the early morning light, or the soft way he does before he kisses him, he thinks maybe they’re right. The line between love and hate is definitely blurred when it comes to Mac, and it stands to reason if he can hate Mac as much as he does sometimes, he could be capable of loving him just as fiercely. But something always happens, something always gets in the way. He goes to that dark place, and wakes up feeling nothing, and remembers it’s all bullshit. Anything good in him always drowns, slips through his fingers even as he tries desperately to cling to it, and one day even Mac will be able to see that. 

He meet’s Mac’s eyes, and he should be alarmed, because Mac is looking at him like that day is today. He’ll wake up tomorrow to an empty apartment. He’ll waste away here, and Mac will never think of him again. He feels nothing.

“Come on,” Mac whispers.

He takes the untouched coffee from Dennis’ hands and then tugs him up by his forearms. Dennis follows mutely, focusing on the warmth of Mac’s hand on his arm and nothing else.

Mac strips his wet clothes off and helps him into dry clothes, careful to pick the softest t-shirt he can find. Dennis’ chest aches as Mac holds two worn shirts in his hands before settling on the RIOT tee and pulling it over Dennis’ head. He crawls into bed, pulling Dennis with him and tucking the covers over them both. Dennis nestles into Mac’s neck, needing to feel him while he still can, while Mac will still touch him. His hands rub over Dennis’ back, and the rest of the world slowly comes back into focus.  
  
“Are Charlie and Dee okay?” he hears himself ask. Mac’s hands pause, just for a second. He wants to ask why he stopped, but his tongue is so heavy in his mouth.

“Yeah, they’ll be fine,” Mac answers. His hands resume their stroking.

“Are you okay?”

Another pause. He counts his breathes while he waits for Mac to answer.

“Just close your eyes Dennis.” _Eleven_. 

He’ll tell Mac about the pills tomorrow. Maybe he’ll stay, if he knows there’s an answer wrapped up with a neat little bow tucked away in the cabinet.

 

Mac is still there when he wakes up. He’s still there when Dennis stutters through an apology for something he doesn’t even remember. He doesn’t ask what he said to Mac yesterday, and Mac doesn’t offer to tell him, but he’s there, a solid weight anchoring him against their bedroom wall, lips warm and soft against his. He doesn’t mention the pills. Mac is all he needs.

 

_April_

 

Dennis passes out one day in April. It’s not a big deal. It’s rainy, and muggy, and he’d just forgotten a few meals, and drank a little too much, and it’s not like it’s never happened before.

But the way Mac looks at him afterwards borders on devastated, and helpless. It irks Dennis the whole day, and needles at him as Mac practically force feeds him a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

It ends in shouting, the way it always does. It ends with Mac storming out, with Dennis staring blankly at the door for an hour while he’s gone. It ends with him kissing Mac breathless the moment he walks back through the door, clutching at him and doing anything in his power to keep Mac from making him talk about it anymore, from giving up on him and leaving for good.

 

_May_

 

“Dennis?”

It’s late Sunday morning. He's still in bed, exhausted, and it’s Mac’s fault, because _Mac_ had convinced him to go out last night for Callie’s birthday. Mac had planned a night out at The Rainbow with her and the whole gang. Dee argued with Mac about it for hours at Paddy’s. She was pissed that Mac had planned a party for _her_ girlfriend behind her back, and pointed out that every single outsider that had ever come in contact with the gang ended up with their life in shambles.

“It’s bad enough that you and Dennis have already met her, I don’t want the rest of you anywhere near her!” she’d shrieked, face splotchy and determined.

“Hey!” Charlie squealed.

“Yeah, I resent that,” Frank chimed in.

“I don’t give a shit. It’s not happening.”

It happened.

To everyone’s surprise, it was one of their only successful nights out in a long time. Everyone was on their best behavior around Callie. She brought out something in them, something good and amiable, and she charmed the shit out of Frank and Charlie by listening to their weird stories all night in between dancing with Dee and playing drinking games with Mac. All of them got too drunk, but in a warm, enjoyable kind of way instead of a ‘get thrown out and asked to never return’ kind of way. Mac spent most of the night with Dennis on the dance floor, grinding against him with his lips pressed to his neck in a way that had Dennis dragging him to the bathrooms after only an hour.

But now it’s morning, and Dennis is hungover and his head hurts and Mac is _loud_. He’s at least finally upright, leaning against the headboard as he nurses the mug of coffee Mac brought him before he’d claimed the first shower.

“Dennis,” Mac repeats tersely.

His voice sounds weird, all tense and clipped. He’s standing in the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom, hair damp and wild looking. Dennis squints at him and tries to gauge why his face is so pinched.

“What?” Dennis finally croaks in response. He rubs his eyes, and when he opens them again Mac is closer, hovering at the foot of the bed.

“You’re not taking these, are you?”

Dennis blinks and focuses, and he sees what Mac is holding. His heart hammers wildly as Mac brandishes the orange bottle.

“Where did you —“  
  
“Dennis, are you taking them or not?” Mac repeats. His voice is unsteady. His frown deepens, and before Dennis can stammer through a response Mac all but jumps onto the bed. He crawls up until he can take Dennis’ hands in his, inspecting them closely.

“What are you doing?”

“Have your hands been shaking?” Mac asks, steamrolling over Dennis’ question.

“Uh, no. Mac I haven’t —“

“What about your memory? Can you remember things okay? What did we do last Friday?”  
  
“Mac, _baby_ , would you just —“  
  
“Muscle weakness? You dropped that box of limes at Paddy’s the other day, was it because —“  
  
“ _Mac_!”

One of his hands shoots up to clamp over Mac’s mouth. Once he’s satisfied that he’s shut him up, he lets his hand smooth over his cheek and settle on his neck. Mac inhales deeply, and almost looks on the verge of tears as he squeezes his other hand tight.

“I’m not taking them,” Dennis admits quietly.

Mac releases a breath, and his face smooths over in relief.

Which. Not exactly what he was expecting.  
  
“Thank god,” Mac breathes. He leans his forehead against Dennis’ before pressing his lips to his.

“Um,” Dennis says as they pull apart. “You’re… happy about that?”

“Yeah, dude, this dose is _way_ too high,” Mac answers, inspecting the bottle closely. “Like, at least twice what you used to take. This shit could’ve killed you.”

His throat feels tight as he watches Mac read the label intently. He feels jittery, like if he opens his mouth he’s going to crumble apart.

“Why is Dee’s name on this?” Mac asks.

Dennis swallows, the words that had been creeping higher in his throat drowning in the acid curling in his stomach.

“She uh — she got them for me,” Dennis says.  
  
Mac’s face clouds over. “Are you kidding? Goddammit Dee, I’m going to _kill_ her. She’s so stupid, she almost killed her own brother. How did she even get her hands on these?”

Dennis shrugs. “I think she went to see a psychologist.”  
  
“A _doctor_ prescribed this much?” Mac asks incredulously. “Jesus, how fucking crazy did she —“

He stops, shooting a worried look at Dennis.

“I didn’t mean that,” Mac says quickly. He drops the bottle on the bed and his other hand grips Dennis’ so hard it hurts. “Dennis, I don’t think —“  
  
“Mac, it’s fine,” he soothes. “It’s alright.”

Mac looks at him for a long minute before glancing down at their joined hands, eyelashes fanning dark over his cheeks.

“I love you,” Mac says softly, staring at Dennis’ hands in his. “You know that, right?”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Yeah Mac, you’ve said it like three times just this morning.”

“I know but, like… I love you no matter what you want to do. You know, about this.”

Dennis nods, gaze falling from Mac’s face to the abandoned pills on the bed.

“Why — why did you stop taking them? I mean, I thought you still were, before you uh, left.”

He feels hot all over, embarrassment prickling uncomfortably all over his body. They still haven’t talked about North Dakota. They’ve danced around the topic several times, but every time they’ve gotten close one of them would change the subject. He’s been too chickenshit to ask Mac if he’s avoiding the subject for his own reasons, or if he really doesn’t give a shit what happened while he was gone. His indifference when he offered to tell the gang about it all those month ago still sticks in him like a bur.

“I don’t know,” he mutters eventually. He focuses on Mac’s thumb tracing patterns on his hand as he speaks. “They made me feel… I didn’t feel like myself. And I was — I was already trying to be someone else, in North Dakota and I just — couldn’t. It was too much.”

He leaves out the part where he drank himself into a stupor most nights to counteract the shakes. The part where he could feel so viscerally how he deteriorated, how he hated the realization that he had become dependent on the little pink pills, and vowed to never let himself come to rely on anything that way again. It doesn’t matter that dependency on Mac has replaced dependency on the pills, or that alcohol has been a consistent crutch throughout his entire life anyway. He leaves out a lot, but Mac isn’t questioning him or pestering him for details, so he knows he gets it somehow.

“What do you want me to do?” Dennis asks after a few minutes, bracing himself for the answer.

Mac considers for a moment, thumbs still rubbing absently over Dennis’ fingers.

“Den, you — I don’t know, you seemed better, before you left.” His heart stutters in his chest, eyes drawing to the bottle again like a magnet. “You seemed happier, I guess, and healthier and — I want you to be happy, you know.”

He nods, throat feeling thick and tight again. He feels one of Mac’s hands come up to wipe at his damp cheek gently.

“So I’m not gonna like, force you to take them.”

“But do you _want_ me to take them?”

“Well, yeah,” Mac says. He caresses Dennis’ jaw when he stiffens.

He hesitates, heart pounding in his chest, eyes anywhere but Mac’s face, before inhaling and asking, “Did you like me better on the meds?”  
  
“What?”

Mac’s hand stills on his face, and his pounding heart sinks into his stomach, because of course he did. Dennis on meds didn’t scratch his face for disagreeing with him. Dennis on meds didn’t push him away at every opportunity, or starve himself, or scream himself into a coma when Mac left him alone in a Walmart parking lot.

“Dennis, no, of course not — look at me.”  
  
He grabs Dennis’ face with both hands and forces eye contact.

“ _No_ , okay?”

He doesn’t reply, and Mac sighs heavily.

“Jesus Christ — Den, I’ve been in love with you since high school dude. Before, during, and after the meds. They can’t change how I feel about you.”  
  
His throat constricts again. His head is still pounding from the massive hangover he has, but he needs a goddamn drink.

“So who gives a shit what I think, okay?” Mac says, wiping at Dennis’ face again gently. “If they made you feel better, then I want you to take them.”

“ _You_ make me feel better,” Dennis mumbles before he can stop himself. He blushes, and chances a glance at Mac. He’s looking at Dennis so gently, like he’s a precious, breakable thing.

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Mac waits patiently for him as he calms down and gets his shit together, rubbing his hands soothingly over his arms.

“I could go with you,” Mac murmurs. “To the doctor, I mean. If you want.”

He sounds nervous, and Dennis is already crying, so if a few more tears slide down his face no one has to know why. He kisses Mac, and it’s wet and salty but Mac kisses him back anyway. He maneuvers them until they’re laying down together, and kisses him until the tears stop and his eyes feel heavy, and when he falls asleep Mac is still pressing his lips to his forehead softly.

 

He works up the nerve to make an appointment a week later. It takes another two days before he musters the courage to ask Mac to go with him, and then before he knows it they’re in the waiting room together, Mac gripping his hand tight. They don’t let Mac come back with him, a policy Mac protests loudly before Dennis shushes him so they don’t get kicked out. Mac stays in the waiting room, and the last thing Dennis sees before they close the door is Mac’s wringing hands and bright smile. 

 

 _June_  


Dr. Coleman is an asshole. No matter what Mac says, it’s an undeniable fact that he’s an asshole. The guy gave his twin sister a prescription based on nothing but one chaotic meeting with her, so not only is he an asshole but he’s a _stupid_ asshole. And yet, Dennis is there every Tuesday, sitting across from him and being fed a bunch of dribble he could have just picked up from his old college textbook. At least, he could have if he hadn’t sold it to a desperate and gullible freshman the moment he graduated.

Mac suggested he schedule therapy on Tuesdays, because he then he could entice Dennis with movie night as his reward for getting through it. It’s a weak argument. Mac would never deny him movie night if he refused to go. But he does go, and he takes the correct dosage of his meds, falling easily back into the old pattern of Mac picking up his prescription for him and reminding him when to take them.

The pills don’t fix everything; nor does the therapy. But Mac says he sees a difference, even after only a few short weeks. He still feels like himself, just without all the sharp edges. When he brings up his concerns about the medication making him feel numb, Dr. Coleman reminds him that last time he didn’t have his dose adjusted regularly enough. Dennis bristles at the unsubtle scolding tone, but he still shows up every week, and is honest about his side effects when asked.

One day he shows up and is asked by the receptionist to update his emergency contact information. He writes Mac’s name and number without even thinking about it. But he falters when he gets to the “relationship to patient” line. _Roommate, best friend, blood brother, boyfriend, partner_ all tick off in his head as his pen hovers, hand stuck in limbo. Almost without thinking he settles on a term that he never thought he’d write, at least not about Mac, but it’s the only one that feels applicable, the only one that feels big enough.

 _Spouse_.

Debra, the receptionist, gives him a private little smile that he actually returns when he hands back the paperwork. On an impulse he asks if she can give him a copy of it, heart fluttering as an idea formulates in his head. He tucks it away in his jeans, and he feels it burning in his pocket the rest of the day.

 

_July_

 

In hindsight, he has no idea how he didn’t see it coming.

“I think I’m gonna go see my mom.”  
  
Mac’s voice is odd as he announces this to the bar. The rest of them look around at each other questioningly.

“Um, okay dude,” Charlie says. “Oh, don’t tell my mom that you saw me.”  
  
“Charlie, I see you everyday. She _knows_ that I see you everyday.”  
  
“I know but she’s been all weird about some picture of my grandma she thinks is haunted, I just don’t wanna get into it again.”  
  
“Back up, she thinks a picture is _haunted_?” Dee asks, and Charlie throws his hands up.

“I just said I didn’t wanna talk about it Dee!”

“Oh come on — you can’t just bring that up and _not_ elaborate.”

“Guys —“ Mac tries to interrupt. “I’m going to —“

“Your mom has always been bonkers Charlie, best to just leave her to it,” Frank says. Charlie turns red immediately.

“Hey! You have no right to talk about my mom like that!”

“ _Guys_ , I’m —“  
  
“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it Charlie?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do, you’re gonna —“

“I’m going to come out to my mom,” Mac says loudly over them. A hush falls over them at last.

“Oh,” Dennis says, breaking the silence. “Oh, um I thought — you haven’t already?”

“No, I — I wanted to start with dad because I knew he’d be harder — mom’s always been the more nurturing and supportive one, you know.”

Dennis says nothing. He looks around and knows they’re all thinking the same thing; Dee clears her throat awkwardly. He tries to imagine the cadence of Mrs. Mac’s grunts as she reacts to Mac telling her he’s gay. He wonders if she’ll even look away from the television.

It occurs to him after a few moments of the awkward silence he should be more supportive.

“Oh um, do you want — I can go with you, if you want?” he offers.

Mac smiles, in Dennis’ favorite warm and soft way, but shakes his head.

“That’s okay dude, it’ll probably be best if its just me and her. And also, I don’t think she likes you very much.”

Dennis sputters indignantly but manages to bite his tongue while Dee and Frank cackle loudly. It’s really a testament to how much he’s grown, and maybe to therapy, that he doesn’t spit back, “how could you even tell?”.

Mac kisses him when he leaves, promises he’ll be back before close, and to get the rest of the haunted picture story from Mrs. Kelly.

 

He goes about his day not thinking much about the morning. Charlie’s mission to take apart a Magic 8 ball he found at the dollar store takes up most of his day, and it’s only when the toy explodes and soaks them all with some weird slimy shit that he realizes Mac still isn’t back.

He cleans up as best he can in the bathroom and shoots Mac a quick text asking if he’s okay. Minutes pass without an answer, and he tries not to worry. His heart still beats a little faster the longer he goes without a response. He focuses on cleaning the gunk out of his hair, watching his phone out of the corner of his eye.

When it finally pings he clumsily drops the roll of paper towels, ignoring the way it unspools all the way across the room until it hits the far wall.

“ _im fine_ ” is all it says.

He stares at the little bubble for a long time, a knot forming in his stomach. Mac is an avid emoji user, to the point that it’s annoying, and the fact that there’s not even one thumbs up or heart emoji means something is wrong.

He types out six different replies, deleting all of them as soon as he adds punctuation. He checks the time; it’s only seven, but he can probably sneak out without much trouble.  
  
“ _okay_ ,” he types. “ _meet you at home in 20? ill get chinese_ ”

He presses send, chewing his nails and pacing as he watches the little typing bubble.

“ _sure. beef n broccoli._ ”

Still no emojis. But at least he agreed to food. Dennis doesn’t really love Chinese. It’s way overpriced and fattening, but it’s one of Mac’s favorites. Whatever it is that’s bothering him, Dennis thinks he can probably get him in a better mood with some fried rice and egg rolls. 

He beats Mac home. The food is still warm; he lays all the containers on the table, setting Mac’s beef and broccoli in his usual seat. Ten minutes pass, and Mac still isn’t home. He showers, washing the rest of the Magic 8 ball gunk out of his hair. He dresses, and rearranges the containers on the table, picking at the fried rice to distract himself and keep his hands from dialing Mac.

When he finally hears the key, he drops the chopsticks immediately and stands, hovering in the entryway when Mac pushes open the door.  
  
“Hey,” he says hesitantly, watching Mac’s face carefully.

Mac doesn’t respond. He can’t decipher the look on Mac’s face as he looks at him; it’s caught somewhere between anger and hurt, and his heart breaks a little.

“So it — it didn’t go well?” Dennis asks as Mac closes the door. His expression is unchanged when he turns back to Dennis, leaning back against the door. “I should have gone with you, maybe she would have taken it better, or —“  
  
“She talked to my dad.”

It takes about six seconds for Dennis to understand, and when he does its like he’s finally falling off that precipice. Ice floods his stomach, and his entire body breaks out in cold sweat.

“Mac — “  
  
“She said he just got his _cast_ off. That he’s been in one since November, when some guy he’d never even talked to shattered his kneecap.”  
  
“Mac, listen —“  
  
“She said he told her that someone named _Frank_ ordered a hit on him.”

His voice is dangerously low. Dennis steps closer on instinct, and Mac’s eyes flash.

“I tried to stop them, Mac, I swear,” Dennis says desperately. “I — you can ask them, I begged Frank to call it off, I knew what it would do to you, and he did but then the guy decided to do it anyway, and I —“  
  
“You — you wanted to call it off?” Mac interrupts. Something shifts in his expression.  
  
“I — yeah, well I tried to,” he answers quickly. “Mac, your dad is — he’s the worst, and he deserved what happened, dude, I’m not denying that. But Frank wanted to _kill_ him, and I knew you’d be heartbroken if that happened so I made him put a stop to it. Or, I tried to, but the dude didn’t _listen_ and broke his kneecap anyway, there was nothing I could do.”

Mac’s face slowly smooths over as Dennis talks, and then he’s looking at him like he’s never really seen him before. The ice in his stomach spreads to his chest.

“Mac you — please you have to believe me, Dee and Charlie will back me up, I never wanted —“  
  
He staggers back as Mac crashes into him. Mac kisses him hard, one hand curling in his hair at the nape of his neck, the other snaking under his arm to clutch at the back of his shirt, fisting in his collar. Dennis gasps against his mouth, nose pressed uncomfortably against Mac’s cheekbone. His hands are frozen at his sides. He finally responds when Mac tilts his head, changing the angle, and kisses him back, hands coming up to cup Mac’s face.

Mac pulls away, breathing heavily. He looks like he just had the wind knocked out of him.

“Mac, what —?”

Mac doesn’t answer his unspoken question. His eyes roam all over Dennis’ face in awe.

“ _What_?” Dennis insists, heart hammering and thudding in his ears. “You aren’t — don’t you hate me?”

“No,” Mac breathes. He grins, wide and bright. “No, Den. That’s — the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The sound that bubbles out of Dennis’ throat is not dignified or attractive.

“I — _what_? Cancelling a hit on your dad… is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you?”  
  
Mac nods. Dennis feels like he’s been thrown into another dimension.

“I took you to the National Karate Tournament in Vegas for your birthday,” Dennis says incredulously. “I blew you in an Applebee’s bathroom. I let you turn the extra bedroom into a gym, and _this_ is the nicest thing anyone has ever done?”

“Yeah. Because of what it _means_ , dude.”

“What are you — _what_ does it mean?”

“You love me.”

All the air is punched out of his lungs. His head spins as Mac grins at him.

“Admit it,” Mac continues as he tries to catch his breath. “You wanted to save my asshole dad’s ass for _me_. You just said he deserved it.”

“He — yeah, he did,” Dennis says weakly.

He wants to point out that this is the first time Mac has ever referred to Luther as an asshole, because that feels significant, but Mac is smiling at him in that warm way that makes him feel even dizzier. He’d stumble back if Mac wasn’t holding onto him, anchoring him and keeping his world right side up. He can’t even bring himself to be pissed that Mac beat him to his own love confession when he looks at him like that.

Dennis presses their mouths together, kisses him slow. His eyes are closed when he leans back and presses his forehead to Mac’s.  
  
“I love you,” he says. He can’t look at Mac, but he doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t take it back. He just breathes, inhaling the familiar scent of Mac’s cologne, shivers as Mac’s thumbs brush over his hip bones.

“I know,” Mac replies, and it’s only a little smug. When he opens his eyes Mac is looking at him like he’s the only person on earth. “You kind of already told me, you know.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Dennis sputters. “No, I think I’d remember that.”  
  
“Not if you were high on oxy.”

His jaw falls open as Mac laughs. Mac presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and breathes out a quiet, “I love you,” to his cheek. 

Later, when Mac is panting and breathless as Dennis slowly takes him apart, he tells him again. Mac shivers under his mouth, and he says it again, breathing the words into his skin, letting them burrow and take hold in the space between them. He doesn’t stop, choking the words out as he comes undone, exhales it against Mac’s mouth as they come back down.

“Say it again,” Mac mumbles sleepily against his throat. They’re pressed together, spent and touching everywhere they can.  
  
Dennis huffs out a little laugh, and cards his hands through Mac’s hair. He feels Mac’s breathing even out as his exhaustion wins out and drags him into a deep sleep.

“I love you,” he whispers into his hair.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes things just sort of...end. 
> 
> god i'm so sad this fic is over, thank you so much for reading and sticking around i love you all so much and i really hope you enjoyed it, i loved writing this and i'm going to miss it a lot <3
> 
> i wanted to leave it sort of open ended re: the spouse thing so you can kind of imagine your own version of how that comes about. but also i'll just say... they get married like a week later bc they're gross and embarrassing. 
> 
> as always, you can find me crying about macdennis on the reg [here](http://hyruling.tumblr.com) ! xo


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